Entertainments and Diversions
by Rogue Requiem
Summary: Based on a Tron 50 Challenge. Follows the fateful meeting of the ISO Quorra and the elusive program Zuse, how the two became friends and allies in the fight against Clu, and the betrayal that corrupted Zuse's faith in both the Users and the ISO herself.
1. Millicycles

**A/N: So, I don't know about everyone else, but I absolutely LOVED _Tron: Legacy_. Everything about it just blew my mind, and like everybody else, I fell in love with Castor. (And Rinzler since he was always doing crazy flips and shit.) **

**Well, you could tell that Zuse and Quorra had totally had a thing for each other at some point, or at least he'd felt something for her. I have decided to explore that relationship using a Tron 50 Challenge created by someone I found on tumblr. As such, this will not be a traditional story like what I usually write, but I will try to make each chapter related to each other to form a larger picture. The timeline for this story takes place before and after Clu took over the Grid and will more than likely follow the events of the movie and a little of my own speculation to what happens afterward. If that made any sense, then I feel accomplished.**

**I'm done talking now. Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Tron: Legacy_. If I did, Castor and Daft Punk would have been the main characters.**

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Fandom: _Tron: Legacy_

Pairing: CastorXQuorra

Prompt: Tron 50 Challenge

Title: _Entertainments and Diversions_

Chapter One: Millicycles

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She shivered from the cold but refused to make any other indication of her discomfort, merely continuing to examine the glossy obsidian floor beneath her feet. White light from all sides illuminated the room and the other figures around her, whom she'd come to recognize in the short time she'd been alive were her brothers and sisters. Who or what exactly she was, what they all were, remained an unknown to her. All she knew came from hearing something within her when she'd first come into being.

_System is stable and functioning. Program is active and online._

She was a program, but she had yet to fully grasp what that meant. For what purpose was she created and how? She hoped to get these answers soon.

"Program."

She jumped at the sudden digitized voice in her ear. Recovering quickly, she withdrew her gaze from the floor to stare confusedly at the straight-faced program who had approached her.

"You're next. Come with me."

Throwing a nervous glance around her towards her brothers and sisters, she received a few encouraging nods from the ones who had already gone through the process and received better-equipped clothes than the thin, cloth-like material with which they'd emerged from the water. Without question, she followed the no-nonsense program, the circuitry in his black leather suit casting a light blue hue around them both as he escorted her out of the waiting room through two sliding, white doors.

The walk down the short hallway was silent, and as they reached the end to step on a slightly-raised platform, nothing but the soft hum of it rising sounded through the air. The platform came to a smooth stop, and her escort gave a sharp nod towards a set of white doors identical to the ones they'd both entered from the level below.

"You're expected through there. The Creator is waiting for you."

Her head turned sharply towards him. _The Creator?_ While she understood some of what these unfamiliar programs were saying around her, she couldn't grasp how to respond back, how to ask questions, how to figure things out. But before she could even try to question him, he nudged her off the platform, motioning for her impatiently to go, the first sign of animation she'd seen from him thus far. Without much choice left to her, she made her way hesitantly towards the doors, unable to slow them down as they slide open.

She stepped past the threshold and found herself surrounded by a dazzling white room. Even the floor was lit up as opposed to the dark, glassy surface she'd seen before. Directly across from her, though, the wall was made entirely of glass, displaying the shadowed but bustling city of which she'd only had a glimpse. Seized by an urge to investigate further, she began moving forward but halted abruptly as another voice echoed off the wall around her.

"Another one has come, Flynn."

"Yes. Another miracle."

On her right, dressed in black leather pants, shirt, and jacket, the style of which were completely different from the other programs', were two men, completely identical down to the same satisfied grin, which at her staring, one of them quickly lost.

"You will tire of saying that eventually, I hope."

"Hey, don't question it, man," the other laughed, clapping his twin on the shoulder. The other accepted this show of affection stoically, moving his sharp gaze from her to stare resolutely out at the city. "Don't mind Clu, my dear. The guy's not too big on jokes really."

She gazed at him warily as he approached. He must have noticed her unease because he stopped a respectable distance from her, a cajoling smile on his lips. She felt herself relax instantly, detecting no threat from him and his decidedly warmer personality as opposed to his twin's. He seemed trustworthy enough to her, and her system could detect nothing to suggest otherwise.

"My name is Kevin Flynn," he declared, "and I am the creator of the Grid and the TRON System. In other words, this, uh, this world you've found yourself in, well, you're welcome." Another good-natured laugh escaped him, bringing a small smile to her own lips.

"But," he continued, "I can't really take all the credit, certainly not anymore. Your creation and that of your fellow programs I'm both proud yet sorry to say was not my doing. You all came out of nowhere just two millicycles ago–that's sixteen hours–and it's all I can do to keep up with properly linking all of you to the system. Isomorphic Algorithms, ISO for short… I still can't fully believe it, and I'm wise enough to admit that I don't understand it. Not anywhere close. But enough about the particulars. What's your name, and do you have anything you wanna ask me before we begin?"

She opened her mouth to speak at last but quickly closed it again, finding that she had no words to say nor any knowledge of how to say them.

"Hmm?" Flynn scrunched his brows in confusion. "What's wrong? Not shy, are ya?"

Once again, she attempted to say something, anything but she was blocked by something. A gap in her data. Something was there, just beyond her grasp but she didn't know how to reach it. Her system was fully operational, but she had no identity to run it through. What was she? An Isomorphic Algorithm was what he'd said, but _who_ was she? Her name, what was her _name?_

"This has happened a few times now," Clu replied, pulling away from his brooding to join Flynn and the ISO. "Most of them have come in knowing their identities, and because of that, they've been able to function relatively well without having an identity disk and can communicate with us. However, there have been a few cases like hers where we've had to trigger a response in their circuitry for them to realize their identity and thus their purpose."

"But after that, they function well beyond their original purpose," Flynn muttered softly before trailing off, running a finger along his lips, clearly thinking about the odd circumstance. "What have you done to fix this so far?"

"We've issued in some interpreter programs to communicate with them to bring forth that elusive connection. We haven't needed more than that," Clu responded, crossing his arms tightly and sizing the ISO up as he replied, as if daring her to contradict him by being the one case where an interpreter wouldn't be enough.

"Fine," Flynn replied, smiling again. "This shouldn't take too long then. Tron!" He turned to address a program she hadn't noticed before whose form was encased in a black leather body suit much more like the other programs except his suit only contained small specks of blue circuitry as opposed to the long lines of circuitry on the other programs' suits and the matching jackets Clu and Flynn wore. "Bring Zuse here for me, will ya, man?"

"Of course, Flynn."

Once Tron had left the room, Clu addressed Flynn, "You really think sending for that program is wise?"

Flynn threw a look of surprise at Clu while she watched the interaction with curiosity. If this Zuse was going to be the one responsible for helping her find her name, her purpose, then she wanted to learn as much about him as she possibly could beforehand. "What? You don't like Zuse?"

"He's just so…loud."

"'He's just so–'" Flynn broke off, as amused laughter shook through him again. "Well, that's certainly true, man. As far as his basic programming goes, Zuse has far exceeded my original intentions for him, but he's often proven that he's still the best interpreter we've got."

Clu looked like he wanted to argue but he refrained. Instead, he withdrew himself away from them again, this time to sit on the long ivory couch that wrapped around in front of a fireplace on the opposite side of the room. Meanwhile, Flynn took her gently by the arm and led her to sit on a white chair in front of a dining table. He sat down beside her, on her right side, at the head of the table.

"It shouldn't take too long now," he assured her. She nodded, feeling her short, bobbed hair brush against her ears.

And it didn't. Shortly after they'd all sat down, Tron returned, this time escorting another program.

"Alright, Flynny, I'm here. Now, what's the rush?"

"Ah, Zuse, good. C'mere, man, we got ourselves a little communication problem."

She gawked at Zuse as he approached, no longer listening to the briefing Flynn was giving him about her. She had seen a lot of crazy and amazing things in this world in just two millicycles, but none were as strange as the program now before her.

In truth, she had yet to see a program clothed in anything that wasn't black; even when she and the other ISOs were born, they were garbed in black cloth which displayed much of their skin along with the glowing white mark on their upper left arm that marked them as ISOs. Zuse's suit, on the other hand, was completely white, the matching circuitry standing out against the few gray sections lining it. Combined with his slicked back, equally-white hair and pale skin, he could easily blend in undetected with the surrounding room if it wasn't for the fact that he was so animated. She watched, fascinated, as he displayed so many movements–constantly leaning from one foot to the other, playing and gesturing with a long, white cane between his fingertips, darting his electric blue eyes to and fro–and all he was doing was having a conversation with someone. It was with some surprise to her that she suddenly found his strangely bright eyes pinned to her own.

"Well, well, and who is _this_ pretty miss?" he grinned at her.

"That's what I want you to find out, Zuse," Flynn said tiredly, having just gone over this.

"Well, I'm aware of _that._ I was trying to give her some incentive to speak. I imagine that Clu over there has _thoroughly_ succeeding in winding the poor girl into a twist." Zuse smirked at the glower that had permanently attached itself to Clu's face since Zuse had walked in the door. The smirk quickly fell away as he intoned while giving Flynn an impatient look, "are you going to give the lady and I some privacy to have a heart-to-heart or what? Finding a program's identity isn't _exactly_ a spectator sport, Flynny."

Flynn smiled and held his hands in a halting gesture as he gradually backed off. "Whatever you say, man."

"Ah, now then."

Without waiting any further, Zuse pulled out a chair and sat directly across from her, laying his cane parallel to the table's edges at its center, lazily propping his head in his left hand as he leaned his arms on the table. Though his face expressed playfulness, his eyes had turned keen and penetrating, no doubt examining her to deduce what her malfunction was. It didn't take long before she broke her gaze to pointedly stare at her hands clenched nervously in her lap.

"The Creator has told me that they haven't gotten you to say anything, that you've been mute the entire two millicycles your system has been active," he stated matter-of-factly, pausing for a moment as if he was waiting for her to do something, anything to confirm or deny his statement. When she merely continued to stare silently at her lap, he resumed speaking again. "But maybe that's because no one has been asking you the right questions, hmm?"

For some reason, this observation struck something within her, causing her to raise her dark eyes to finally look at him again, indicating that she was listening. He quirked a sly smile, secretly congratulating himself on making progress already. He was, after all, the best.

"I suppose then we can start by asking if you know why you're here. Do you know why you were created?"

She listened to him intently, and though his words made sense to her, she found that she still had no answer for him. The truth was she didn't know anything about her purpose at all, and if the Creator of this system didn't even have that knowledge, then, she reasoned, how could she? Beyond being brought to the city to receive an Identity Disk and become incorporated into the system, there was no other reason she would be here at all. The discovery of this lack of purpose, this lack of existence caused a hollow feeling to begin forming inside of her, and she knew that if she couldn't find a way to erase it by gaining some sort of reason for living, it would consume her very soon. Her inner circuitry began to speed up in fear of this potential outcome.

Realizing that Zuse was still waiting for her answer, she slowly shook her head in denial, suddenly feeling ashamed of herself and what seemed to her to be utter uselessness. To her continued surprise, he was less than discouraged. If anything, his next question sounded even more eager. It appeared that he was just as excited at getting some answers from her as she was anxious to discover her identity.

"Well, that's fine. To be honest, I didn't expect you to know that answer right away. Just wanted to get your, uh, _thoughts_ turning." He smirked at her, and she felt a rush of annoyance. Was this just a game to him? "Now surely you remember where you were created. It wasn't too long ago after all. Is there anything specific that you remember about it?"

Her vexation at him temporarily forgotten, she furrowed her brows as she thought about her birth. She didn't know if it was the same for the other ISOs as it was for her, but the first thing she recalled seeing was light, followed by a strange heavy sensation which dimmed her senses. This sensation was cool to the touch but slowed her motions. She rose from it, breaking from it like all the others, and suddenly, just focusing on it, she was able to give it a name.

"Water," she finally said, her voice sounding so odd to her ears as it cracked from disuse. She didn't notice that with that single word, she had grabbed the full attention of the four men in the room.

"The Sea of Simulation," Zuse verified for her. "Most programs originate from there as well. I suppose you could call it the heart of the system, if such a thing actually exists. And might I add, what a lovely voice you've come to have." He grinned cheekily, unable to resist teasing her, while she was completely unsure of how to respond to it.

"You know who created this entire system, I trust?"

She nodded, still unsure and uncomfortable with her voice, but Zuse wouldn't take her silence now.

"Who?" he pressed.

"Flynn," she said hesitantly.

"Correct, but do you know _what_ Flynn is?"

She was completely lost by this question, so she answered as best she could, though she thought they had already established what Flynn was. "The Creator."

Zuse gave a small chuckle. "No, no, I mean, well, how shall I explain this? I am a program." he pointed at himself. "Tron and Clu are programs." He waved his hand lazily in their direction. "And you are a program, though a very special one at that. Kevin Flynn, on the other hand, is something else entirely."

"He's not a program?" she replied, the warm feeling of curiosity gripping her once again.

"Ah, and she begins to ask her own questions. Good, _very_ good," the eccentric program stated, more to himself than to anyone else. "No, Flynn is, using his terms, a human from outside of this system, essentially from another world far different from our own. The name we've given to those like him are the Users."

"Users?" She was reeling a bit from the influx of information being sent her way, but she couldn't deny that it all made sense. From the moment she entered the room, she noticed that there was something different about Kevin Flynn. Compared to Tron, Clu and the program that had escorted her here, his movements were more fluid, more whimsical, and his speech was more relaxed and natural. Comparing him to Zuse, though, was where she became confused. She wasn't sure if Zuse was more outgoing than most programs, or if he had been programmed to behave more like Users. In any case, she was certain that in this system Flynn and Zuse were one-of-a-kind in their own way.

"Mm-hm, now that _that_ has been established, let's go for the gold, shall we?" Zuse interrupted her queries, leaning even more forward in his seat towards her. "Now, be a good girl and _think carefully_. What is your name?"

Her name? Hadn't she already been through this? She _didn't know!_

Or did she? In the two millicycles of her life, she had just been going with the motions, trying to get to a point where she could take the time to think the events happening to her through. Everything following Flynn's discovery of the ISOs had happened so quickly that she had barely been able to process it. Now, she had been granted that time to just stop for a moment and think, thanks to Zuse.

She closed her eyes, recalling all the information she had learned thus far, and though it wasn't very much, it was more than enough to send her circuits racing with curiosity and even more questions. All of the ISOs were born from light and water. Had any of them experienced these strange feelings and sensations she had discovered? Were they born all alike, with the same purpose and function, or were they created as individuals with their own destinies and desires? Had the pulls of emotions she'd been feeling been as strong in her fellow ISOs as they were in her? As she'd followed these emotions to give her the courage to even venture forward into this room, did they follow theirs? They shared the Sea of Simulation as their birthplace, common to other programs in the system. What exactly had Zuse said about it? That it was the heart of the system? Heart? Yes…

And with that, she knew.

"Quorra," she smiled as warmth took over her again and the hollowness faded away. "My name is Quorra."

Zuse grinned triumphantly back at her. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Quorra. My name is Zuse."

Quorra gave a small laugh at his antics, too caught up in the feeling of her system being fully operational that she didn't immediately notice Kevin Flynn coming to Zuse's side.

"Excellent work," he shook Zuse's hand warmly as the program rose from the table, grinning in amusement.

"Naturally," he said, wanting to laugh at the sour expression on Clu's face at his success, though he refrained. He didn't want to press his luck too much with the serious program. "Now, I'm right in presuming that's all you need me for today, yes?" He began twirling his cane between his hands again.

"Yes, Zuse, feel free to head back when you're ready. Quorra," Flynn said, switching his attention onto the ISO, who had still remained sitting at the table, a bit overcome, "nice to see that you're finally with us, my dear."

She accepted his hand-up gratefully after he approached her as she tried to regain her bearings.

"Since you are self-aware of your identity, the disk should be able to recognize your system now. C'mon, we'll get you suited up."

In the exchange, she was oblivious to Zuse's intense gaze fixing on her again. The white-clad program shook it off quickly and began to take his leave. With a last smug look (mostly directed at Clu), he walked out of the room.

Flynn was just escorting Quorra towards another room when she noticed Zuse's disappearance. She felt like she needed to do something in regards to him, so she halted their progress and timidly asked Flynn if she could try and catch him.

"Yeah, but you better hurry. I've never known him to linger in any place too long when he's being called to somewhere else."

"Right," she nodded, turning to run out of the illuminated ivory room down the darkened hallway. She caught him just as he was stepping on the lift.

"Wait!"

Zuse turned, lifting an eyebrow questioningly. Quorra suddenly felt a little foolish for doing this, and she inwardly cursed her tendency towards shyness that was quickly catching up with her.

"I-I, um," she swallowed nervously, focusing her attention on the design his white circuitry made on his chest, "I just wanted to say thank you for helping me."

"Oh, is that all?"

Her head snapped up, a little hurt that he had just disregarded her sincerity. It must have shown on her face, because he quickly amended it.

"I thought at first that something else had gone wrong. You had me worried for a minute there, lovely."

She cleared her throat awkwardly. She really didn't know how to behave around this program.

"I'll–I'll see you around, then?" she said, wanting to say something to clear up the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them. She also didn't want to keep Flynn waiting for too much longer, nor did she want to delay Zuse from wherever he was going. His response took her aback.

"Hmm, no." He smiled, a little remorseful at the confession. "No, I don't believe you will."

Then, before she could ask what he meant, the lift descended, and he was gone.

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**A/N: Quorra is Italian for "heart," by the way. Truly amazing how story lines write themselves. Hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Please take the time to review and tell me what you think.**


	2. Armor

**A/N: Heya, everyone! I'm back (finally!) with another chapter!**

**Thank you to Reviewers: SixFootUnder, Sidicious, and A Type of Wallflower. Just the fact that I got three reviews in this small but growing fandom has me more than thrilled and so grateful!**

**Thank you to those who Favorited/ Story Alerted: SixFootUnder, A Type of Wallflower, icetenten, ILovePie930, NellieTheHeartless, Scarlet Snidget, and Sidicious.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Tron: Legacy_, nor anything that is featured in the comic _Tron: Betrayal_ or the videogame _Tron: Evolution_.**

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Fandom: _Tron: Legacy_

Pairing: CastorXQuorra

Prompt: Tron 50 Challenge

Title: Entertainments and Diversions

Chapter Two: Armor

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Quorra followed closely behind Flynn, not paying an ounce of attention to where he was leading her. Her sea-blue eyes were open, but she was focused entirely inward, her thoughts clouding her mind and making her movements sluggish. She wouldn't have thought that her circuitry could slow down from such a minor process, but it appeared that her confusion was putting unexpected strain on her system. Perhaps with the more she learned and the more her system kept up to date with the events in her life, she would adapt accordingly.

For now, though, she could not put her last conversation with him out of her mind.

_"I'll–I'll see you around, then?"_ She had been so fidgety and nervous. Why, though? He was just another program, just like her and Clu and Tron. Just like her fellow ISOs. Except he wasn't the same. Not exactly. His mannerisms were too vibrant, his speech too fluid, and his attitude too confident. Not even Kevin Flynn, the Creator of this system, had displayed that kind of confidence.

_"Hmm, no."_ And he had smiled then, utterly amused but there was a tinge of sadness there. Why had he been sad? _"No, I don't believe you will." _

And that had been it. It was not so incredibly strange––certainly nothing compared to her creation––yet she was thinking more intently about that one little encounter than anything else that had happened in the past two millicycles, even placing it above learning her own identity. Surely, it wasn't as important as learning something _that_ substantial. No single attribute about a person was above one's own name. That was the central feature of a person where all others began and centered around.

_Quorra_.

She rather liked her name. It felt significant for some reason that she found her own name without someone assigning one to her. She had a strange feeling that such a thing didn't happen very often.

_Zuse._

But what about him? How did he acquire his name? It seemed to state something so specific, something almost intangible, and yet she knew what that something was. It was a powerful name, an ambitious name, one that is forever seeking knowledge.

And the other programs? What of them? How were their names granted to them? What did their names say about them? For that matter, what did her own indicate about her? She didn't really know, herself. It seemed easy for her to analyze others, but it was obvious to her that she wasn't nearly as proficient at self-reflection. Or when it came to analyzing Zuse's actual being, not just his name.

She was jolted from her musings as Flynn stopped before her, finally arriving at the end of the lit-up hallway. She watched as he raised his hand, placing it upon the door that was firmly shut in front of him. Lights from the circuitry flashed and beeped quietly under his palm, and she was amazed at how deftly he moved his fingers to input the desired code. The door swooshed open to the right, revealing a room cloaked entirely in shadow, but instead of walking in, Flynn stood aside and gestured towards the opening.

"The armory," he stated simply, moving his gestured arm to run a hand through his brown hair. Quorra realized that he seemed suddenly nervous.

"You, uh," he began, lowering his arm to wave towards her, "you obviously need new clothes. The weather here isn't exactly sunshine at the beach, and the ones you ISOs have with you, weeeelll..." He cut off, looking at her directly. "They just don't cut it, kiddo. Plus, you need a disk to be fully integrated into the system, so we may as well kill two for one, huh?"

She nodded slowly. "I agree. Let's go, then."

She stepped forward, but instead of him following her like she expected, he sidestepped out of her way, laughing lightly.

"Trust me, Quorra, you don't want me present for this one." He grinned sheepishly, motioning her forward. "I'll see you when you get out, same place as before. Go on. They're waiting for you."

He turned from her, retreating back down the hallway. She watched until all she could make out were the lights from his shoes, and she was left in semi-darkness. With more than a little apprehension, she entered the armory.

The light from the hallway gave her a little assistance to see with, until it closed almost silently behind her. Feeling suddenly trapped by the darkness, Quorra hesitated in taking another step, feeling the circuits in her chest begin to pound and energize. She wasn't sure why she felt so vulnerable––Flynn already proved to be trustworthy to her––but she did. She couldn't understand, though, why he didn't stay with her; having that reassurance would have greatly helped her nerves. Her fear was abated, though, when dim lights started to illuminate the room.

The architecture of the room was much like the rest that she had seen within the city so far. A polished, metallic floor was cool beneath her bare feet, the walls reflecting these features but alternating between gray and white. The high ceiling above her was a darker gray, and through the shadows clinging to each corner, she could see where the attached lights were directing most of their light towards: a small, raised platform in the middle of the room.

Quorra stared at the platform for a moment before moving her gaze around the room one last time. Flynn had said that "they" were waiting for her, but she had yet to glimpse a sign of any other person, be it Program or User. Taking a calming breath, the ISO resumed her steps forward, feeling emboldened, and proceeded to stand atop the platform. The moment she did, her feet were suddenly trapped in place, a door she hadn't noticed to the right of her flew open, and the matching _clank, clank, clank!_ of platform shoes filled the air.

The door she had entered, stationed directly behind her still, remained closed, so Quorra attempted to see who was approaching her from the far shadows of the room. Two female programs––she could tell that much from the way their white circuitry lit up and framed their bodies––moved in sync towards her, but she could not make out much else, especially their faces. At the pace the two were moving, however, this quickly changed, and the programs moved to stand on either side of the ISO, facing her.

The program on her left had dark skin and hair, piercing black eyes, and was dressed in a fitted, all black suit, but it was free from any armor that Quorra could see; the same could be said for the program on her right, except she was light-skinned, even paler than Quorra, and dressed in white and gray.

"Another ISO, I presume?" the all-white program stated, but all of them knew the question was rhetorical. The black cloth wrapped around Quorra's body, the tattoo glowing from her left shoulder, and her wide, curious stare betrayed exactly what she was.

"I'm Quorra," she said. The other two programs exchanged glances. The dark program refocused her sharp gaze on the ISO.

"I'm Ellipse," she replied then nodded toward her partner, "and that's Ada. We're Installation programs. We're going to give you what you'll need to operate and survive within the system. What you choose to do with them after you leave here is up to you, ISO."

Quorra nodded, showing she understood. "But, why can't I move?"

"It helps dressing you run more smoothly," Ada interjected. "One misstep can seriously hinder the whole process."

"I can promise you," Quorra said, slightly indignant, "I may be new to this system, but I know how to undress and dress myself."

The white program only smiled indulgently. At this point, Ellipse stepped forward, extending her pointer finger upward. Suddenly, her fingertip burst into a glowing, buzzing light, becoming a laser, and without further ado, she began to steadily cut through Quorra's clothes. Ada diligently removed the strips of cloth as Ellipse cut through them, tossing them to the ground where spaces in the floor in turn opened up to suck them down for disposal.

Quorra felt increasingly awkward the longer she stood there, and a light blush of embarrassment dusted her cheeks as she understood why Flynn had made a hasty retreat before. Beneath all of his confident airs, he truly was a gentleman.

She shook slightly as a cold chill swept over her body, having more and more of her skin exposed to the cool air than she'd ever had before. She was feeling more and more useless by the second. Was she supposed to be doing something? Maybe not anything productive but surely something else other than standing there purposelessly?

Eventually, the two programs finished their work, and Quorra was left wearing nothing at all to shield her from the cool temperature of the room or from prying eyes. It didn't last long, however, for, starting from her bare feet, warmth quickly sped up her body, surrounding everything from the neck down. At the same time, she watched, mesmerized, as a stretchy black material covered her lower body, fashioned like pants. This same material also covered her upper body, only it draped over her like a long shirt would, leaving only her shoulders bare.

Seeing that this phase of the integration had been completed successfully, Ada and Ellipse left her to cross in sync towards the left wall of the room. Once there, Ellipse lightly touched her finger––now devoid of the laser––to the wall, and a shelf seamlessly slid out, containing two pieces of black, light armor. Both programs reached for the separate pieces of armor before marching back to Quorra. Ellipse attached hers to Quorra's back while Ada's was suited around Quorra's chest and stomach. Swiftly and smoothly, the armor melded itself to Quorra's outfit, and she could feel it as they attached together above her shoulders. It was then that her circuits started to whir and hum like never before as a line of circuitry blinked its way to life up her right leg, across her chest, and down both of her arms. A smile curved her lips at the sight; she truly looked like one of them now.

Unbeknownst to Quorra through her fascination with the installation, a platform had risen behind her, so she was slightly startled when a cool female voice echoed throughout the room.

_"Attention, program. You will now receive an Identity Disk. Everything you do or learn will be recorded on this disk. If you lose your disk or fail to follow command, you may be subject to immediate deresolution."_

Quorra wasn't sure what "deresolution" was, but it certainly didn't sound pleasant; this disk she was about to receive must really be something. When Ada returned with the disk, attaching it to Quorra's back, Quorra felt the strange sensation of having her mind completely and totally wiped of all thought or feeling before experiencing the surge of every memory and experience uploading to the disk. The circuitry within her was truly going into overdrive now, but she instinctively knew this was standard behavior. When everything began to fade back to normal again, the same voice she had heard after her birth sounded within her again.

_"System now running at full capacity."_

Her feet were freed, and as she stumbled back, she noticed that her feet were still bare.

"Uh." She pointed down at them, but looked up to see that Ellipse was already prepared for her, holding out a pair of black boots that she had retrieved from another drawer near the armor. "Thank you," Quorra replied, taking them from the program and putting them on. They were also made from the same material as her clothes, so she could barely tell where her boots ended and her pants began after she put them on.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" Ellipse stated, and Quorra laughed lightly in relief, knowing the program was just joking to lighten the mood.

"It was . . . different."

The ISO straightened up, absentmindedly tucking a bit of her short, dark hair behind her ear while she looked down at her new garb. This was it, then. This would be how she looked from here on out. Things were really going to start changing for her and the other ISOs, ideally for the better, after all of this. Still, she was wondering about something.

"How come you chose a black outfit for me?" Quorra wondered, looking between the two programs before focusing on Ada. "I've seen a few others––even some of my own siblings––in white suits. Is there some special reason for those?"

"Not really. They're more for variety's sake, though they are less common," Ada affirmed. "You came here in black, and it really seemed to suit you, even more so than some of the other ISOs I've seen so far. It seems fitting that you leave here in black as well." She smiled, but the smile, while genuine, didn't seem to reach her eyes like Kevin's smiles did his. Quorra was dismayed to think that all programs, including herself, so thoroughly lacked that distinctive touch of emotion that Users had until she remembered. . . Zuse. His eyes had easily conveyed what he was feeling. What was it about him that made him so different from the other programs? And more importantly, could she learn to be the same way?

She didn't know why, but despite knowing that she was a program herself, she didn't want to operate like the ones she had interacted with thus far, such as that cold program that had escorted her to Flynn, Clu and his unyielding sternness, or even these Installation programs who, while beautiful, calm, and soothing, held no real warmth or feeling. Was it the disk that did this? But, no, Zuse and even Kevin Flynn had a disk. It couldn't be that. She guessed it really must be within their programming to generally behave that way. They didn't just wear armor for protection, it seemed. They wore their own special brand of armor to hide their feelings as well, to dull them from others seeing them.

Well, she wasn't going to let her basest programming stop her from enjoying herself and experiencing life on the Grid to the fullest. Not if she could help it. She couldn't see what the other programs were hiding from, if they even were hiding. She would risk being attacked for it if it meant that she could be herself, just as she was made. It seemed to work out for Zuse just fine.

As Ellipse and Ada led her back to the armory entrance, exchanging polite farewells with her, Quorra couldn't stop the a stray thought from wandering through her mind. How exactly would she have looked if they had chosen to garb her in an all-white suit, instead?

* * *

Clu and Tron were gone when she returned to the sitting room, but Flynn was still there, waiting for her on the couch. He was focused intensely on something that he was holding between his hands but looked up at her arrival.

"Wow, look at you." He smiled. "How's it feel? Comfortable?"

"Surprisingly, yes," Quorra replied, smiling in turn, but she couldn't abate her curiosity for long.

"What is that you're holding?"

"This?" He closed the object, holding it up by its spine. "It still amazes me how programs are so thrown by one of these. It's a book. It's something in my world that's used to convey information and to entertain. They come in all different sizes and tell some of the most astounding ideas and stories, on paper, though. Programs have access to something similar in files and in your disks, but as you know, all that's digital. Books allow Users to have all of that, just in a hard copy."

"Oh," she stated, a little overwhelmed. "So, instead of uploading the information, you–?"

"Read it," he finished.

"I guess," she concluded, "Users can't upload information like Programs can. You learn by…experiencing it firsthand, through sight and––"

"Mental processes, yeah."

"So, what is it you're reading?"

"Ah." Flynn looked down at the book's cover, smiling fondly at it. "George Orwell's _Nineteen Eighty-Four_. It's about a country that tried to create a perfect world, a utopia, but it quickly turned into a totalitarian state. A mockery of perfection. Heavy stuff."

"Why are you reading it?"

"To learn from other's mistakes, so I don't repeat them." He smiled, but it was self-mocking. "I'm starting to think that it's all for nothing, though, given recent events."

At her inquiring look, he merely laughed good-naturedly and handed the book to her.

"You can have it, if you want. I can easily get another copy back home, and I think you would enjoy it."

She took it gratefully, excited to start it, but there was more she wanted to ask him.

"What's it like? Your world?"

He wanted to answer her, she could tell, but it wasn't the right moment. "That'll have to wait 'till next time. But you'll see it one day. I promise."

_That_ thoroughly caught her attention. Really? She would? How? But Kevin had moved on.

"Now, is there anything else about what has happened today that you still have questions about? I don't mean to rush you out the door, but there are still many ISOs left to see."

She had plenty of questions for him. Where was she supposed to go now? What was she supposed to do? She was an ISO, but what did that mean her function was in the system? Did she truly belong here, or was this all an accident? Where could she find Zuse if she needed to? It was strange how she already regarded him as a friend, but she wasn't blind to the impact he had already had in her life.

"I noticed that the Installtion programs didn't have armor. Neither did Clu. Or you. But Tron did, and I do. How come we need them, and you don't?"

"A fair question," said Flynn. "Ellipse and Ada rarely if ever leave this tower. This is their home, and this is where their programming requires them to be most of the time. Clu _has_ armor, but he refuses to wear it most days. He will if he needs to, but . . ." He trailed off. "I don't wear armor––though I really probably should––because I'm a User. If I get hit, I won't get damaged or derezzed like you programs do. Though I'm sure any hit would still really hurt." He laughed.

"Tron wears armor because he's a security program. He protects this system from corrupt programs, and believe me, even in this system, there are many of them. Viruses, Trojans, rogues. The Grid isn't as safe as it once was, I'm sorry to say. As one of the system's best fighters, he needs all of the protection he can get. And so do you. As an ISO, you are a very rare program, and it would be a shame if anything happened to any of you just because I didn't see that you were probably provided for.

"I _could _sequester you away if I wanted, but that would be a real tragedy. You deserve to experience this system like every other program, regardless of how special you are. Just be wary. Be alert, and learn how to protect yourself. I'm sure there are many who are willing to teach you if you want to learn. Seek out Bartik or the ISO leader, Radia. She'll set you right, I'm sure."

Quorra nodded, sensing that her meeting with the Creator was over, and thanked him for all he had done. Especially for the book.

Kevin rose as the black-haired ISO made it to the door, grinning mischievously at what he had just thought to serve as their goodbyes.

"And you know, kiddo," Flynn said in a playful tone, making Quorra stop in her exit to look back at him, "I'm certain that, if you could find him, that is, Zuse would be more than happy to help you. With anything you ask."

Quorra heard Flynn's chuckle of amusement as she walked quickly––not _fled_, thank you very much––down the hall, thankful that no other program was there to see her flush.

Was she _that_ obvious, or was Flynn just observant?

Somehow, she didn't think it was the latter.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed that. Zuse should be in the next chapter in all his sexy Disney princess glory. Until next time!**


	3. Home

**A/N: I apologize for the long wait, guys. School happened. But regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Thank you to Reviewers: SixFootUnder, Fritz as Pritz, Amanda, Ennya, Rosethorn, and vivalablond. You guys are fantastic, and I really appreciate all of your support! :3**

**Also, thank you to those who Favorited and Story Alerted: Angel Demone, daylightvampire, Ennya, pugswanthugs, SixFootUnder, Erika the Phantomess, Fritz as Pritz, i'm not ulysses, icetenten, ILovePie930, littlejumper01, NellieTheHeartless, PSPGamerGirl, Scarlet Snidget, and Sidicious.**

**Disclaimer: Hmm... No... No... Not here, either. I'm so sorry, but I couldn't find a single right to Tron anywhere! D:**

* * *

Fandom: _Tron:__Legacy_

Pairing: CastorXQuorra

Prompt: Tron 50 Challenge

Title: _Entertainments__and__Diversions_

Chapter Three: Home

* * *

Quorra flipped another page of _Nineteen__Eighty-Four_distractedly, continually marveling at the feel of the thin sheets of paper under her fingertips. It was so unlike anything the Grid had shown her thus far, but that was not what had her so distracted. It wasn't the text itself that was causing her thoughts to be so jumbled, either; indeed, it had been almost thirty-six millicycles—nearly two weeks, by her understanding—since her audience with Flynn, and thus far, she had already read through the novel in her hands twice, now attempting to start on her third. There was just one problem.

"Hey, Quooooora!" A loud voice resounded in her ear as a spandex-covered hand pressed right on top of the page which she'd been attempting to focus on. "Stop ignoring us and join in!"

The ISO glanced up from her book, only to quickly recline further back into her seat at the surprise of seeing another face so close to hers. A young man, precisely the same age as her, grinned widely back at her, his green eyes flashing with mischief. Dark hair hung in a jagged style around his face just as it spiked up haphazardly on top of his head. His black clothing was just as disorderly, fashioned in an asymmetrical style similar to her own. His right arm was covered in spandex while the other was left completely bare, the tattoo of the ISO glowing proudly on his upper arm. Small squares of circuitry were alight sporadically on his chest, arms, and legs, with two solid, glowing, white lines falling from his shoulders, the one on the left running completely down his leg while the right line stopped to wrap around to the back of his knee.

Across the room, another program was sitting at their apartment's dining table, which glowed from the white lines situated around its edges and down its four legs. It was one of the few things that had its own circuitry, since, in these apartments, programs could actually obtain light from flipping a switch to activate the electrical panels on the ceiling and the lamps found throughout the rooms. At the moment, the program stood from his seat, pushing his chair back, to cross the room towards Quorra and the other ISO, the black cloak he wore swaying with his almost silent movements. Flashing a quick smile at Quorra, his white teeth gleaming against his dark skin and clothing, he quickly pulled the male ISO into a headlock, dragging him away from Quorra throughout his loud protests.

"Quit annoying your sister, Rubrix. She's obviously more interested in that book than she is in whatever pigheaded arguments you have to say." He grinned, rubbing his knuckles fiercely against the ISO's head. He didn't see the harm, as the program's head looked like an identity disk had been taken to it, anyway. The head in question, however, thought otherwise.

"OW! Nero! Get off! Not the hair, _notthehair!_" Rubrix yelled frantically, wriggling away from Nero's grasp, hands going immediately to his hair to rearrange the strands. "_Ow!_"

"Don't be such a virus next time, then." Nero shook his head, a small smile still curving his lips slightly.

"But she's read that thing a hundred times already! She should have it memorized by now!" Rubrix whined back. "And this is important!"

During this display, Quorra closed _Nineteen__Eighty-Four,_ placed it gingerly on the small table in front of her, and rose from the couch, knowing the two programs well enough that now was the time to dispel an argument before it started.

"Rubrix is right," Quorra stated, shooting him an apologetic look as she ran a hand through her short, ebony locks of hair. "I should have been paying attention instead of reading. Figuring out how we're going to keep paying rent here is more important right now."

Quorra had met Rubrix right after her meeting with Kevin Flynn. Being an ISO himself, he had walked right up to Quorra and started talking to her as if they'd known each other all their lives, which in a way, she supposed, they had. His easygoing attitude and unlimited positivity had calmed her nerves significantly. With how expressive he was, warmth flooded Quorra's circuits in relief. Maybe being an ISO really _did_ make all the difference. She couldn't take it if she discovered that all of the other ISOs except her had been devoid of natural emotion, as programs like Ellipse, Ada, and Clu seemed to be. And it was with a start that she realized that he was the first program of their kind to actually _talk_ to her, to actually interact with her as if it were the most normal thing in the world to do. Up until that point, she had only been treated like that by the Creator and…

But with Rubrix, this kind of interaction was different. There was a pre-established sense of kinship between them to the point that when he had grabbed her hand and pulled her along, saying that he'd found a place that might be welcome for them to live, she didn't resist at all. Immediately, even though they were the same age, she had viewed him as a little brother who needed to be looked after, and it wasn't much of a stretch for her to realize that she _wanted_ to be the one to protect him.

Both of them knew that a compound had been constructed for all of the ISOs to reside in if they so desired, all costs paid in full. But Rubrix proved how similar he was to Quorra the instant he'd revealed that he wanted to become a part of the Grid like the other programs. To live how they live and see as they see. "It's just boring if everything keeps being done for us," he'd said.

That was how they had found Nero. The program was a part of the Grid's security protocol; he had lost his former two partners, and thus his roommates, to a virus they had tracked hanging about the outskirts of the Grid.

"Rent won't pay itself," he had said gruffly to them when they had approached him at the small bar Rubrix had heard that he frequented, a hard look in his eyes as he brushed off their condolences. Despite the kindness Nero had shown them after that meeting, Quorra knew that the loss of his friends in the field was something that was still hurting him, but he was trying to bury the pain deep somewhere. After all, he had still not returned to work, and his energy reserves were running out. Nero had leveled them with a steady, golden gaze, music humming low in the background. "You ISOs are getting paid good energy for that research program of Flynn's, as I understand it."

That was true as well. All of the ISOs were a part of a study that Flynn and Clu had organized when they had been first discovered. Since they had yet to be summoned back to Flynn's tower, neither Quorra nor Rubrix were sure of exactly what the study entailed. They had heard that it was to do with their functioning potential, as they were supremely different from every program that had been created thus far, so it wasn't yet certain what all they were capable of. This study would, perhaps, answer these questions. In addition, the information they acquired on their disks were required to be sent at the end of every day to Flynn, so he could scan them for any anomalies or advancements. Any bite of information that deviated from other programs could tell him a great deal about the ISOs, if he could figure out how to read them, of course. As a result, each ISO was also sent a payment of energy at the end of every day to do with what they wished. Most of Rubrix and Quorra's were being spent through rent and daily living, though they were trying to save up in order to buy tickets to attend the Games. With the recent influx of rent costs, however, it looked like they would have to put off that dream for awhile.

"Look, you two," Nero said in the present, placing a hand on both of their shoulders, "it's no big deal. It's about time I went back to work anyway. I've had long enough to brood here."

"As appreciated as that is," Rubrix stated, brows furrowed in uncharacteristic seriousness, "you don't get paid until the end of every week, right? At the rate we're going, we're going to run out of time.

"I suggest," he announced, pulling away from Nero to pace the room, adopting a sudden air of importance, "that we browse through the poor, downtrodden programs of the Grid and try to find another roommate! One that can pay, of course!"

"But where would they sleep?" Nero asked. "We barely have enough room for us as it is, with Quorra and I taking up the two bedrooms and you bumming it out here on the couch."

"Honestly, Nero. If you want me to share a bed with you, all you have to do is ask."

Rubrix's sudden cry of pain combined with shouts of "Not the hair, I said!" and "Gimme your damn disc, boy, so I can give you that buzz-cut you desperately need!" didn't shake Quorra from her pondering.

While it was true that the ISOs were getting reimbursed for their information and for their participation in Flynn's study, there really wasn't any reason why they couldn't work other jobs, right? And besides, Quorra still desired to see and experience more of the Grid than she had thus far, and getting a job somewhere in its depths would help that. Plus, she'd be able to send more information to Flynn as a result.

It seemed, though, that seeing more, learning more was an unquenchable need that would never be fulfilled, and that realization was starting to speed up her circuitry in a frantic way. In fact, ever since the Creator had shown her _that__book_ and gave her a small taste of his world, ever since she had read about it herself (What exactly _was_ a newspaper, anyway? A chestnut tree?), she knew that the Grid, for all its wonders, would never be enough for her.

_"__What's__it__like?__Your__world?__"_

_ "You'll see it one day. I promise."_

It was a promise Quorra hoped and dreamed would be kept. But, at the moment, the Grid was home to her, its lightning-ribboned skies, its glowing surfaces, and its quirky inhabitants. This was home, and it was enough.

For now.

And it was time she did her home a service.

"Rubrix, why don't you and I try to find work?" Quorra called over the noises of the two wrestling males. Instantly, they broke apart, Nero sending Rubrix a dark glower, which he returned with a cheeky grin.

Until he registered what Quorra just said.

"What?" he cried, aghast. "Work? Are you kidding me?"

"Oh, what's the problem?" Quorra questioned, smiling sweetly at him. "It'll be good for us. You keep saying we need to branch out in the system more."

"And there's _always_ some sort of work to be done in the system," Nero contributed, smirking slightly at the male ISO's reluctance. Of the two, Quorra had proven to be the most sensible. "Keeping a system like this running smoothly is a round-the-cycle job, trust me. I'm sure you two can find something." He paused, before a wicked look came upon his face. He leaned in to Rubrix, saying in a mock-conspiratorial voice, "You could probably easily find work sweeping up old bits of derezzed programs. So many quit from the strain, they're always looking for workers."

"That is cruel and unusual, man!" Rubrix paled at the thought. "Besides, why are you telling me this? _She's_ the one that wants to work!"

"A gruesome job like that is no place for a lady. How sickening of you to suggest it!" Nero said blandly.

"Maybe we should make him sleep out in the hall tonight?" Quorra joked innocently, joining in on teasing Rubrix.

"You!" the shocked ISO yelled, pointing an offending finger at Quorra, before dropping his voice to a stage whisper. "_Traitor!_ After all, I've done for you…"

"C'mon, it's not gonna be that bad." The female ISO smiled a genuine smile this time, before drawing her brother into a hug to intone softly. "Do this for me. We need the energy, and it won't be for too long. You might even find that you enjoy working."

Rubrix returned the hug, laughing softly. "Unlikely. Very unlikely, but...you're right. I'll try. For you."

"I hate to break up this sharing-is-caring mood here," Nero interrupted them, his gruffer side emerging again at such a blatant display of affection, "but if you two don't hurry it up, get out there, and start looking, all of the good jobs will get gone, if they're not already."

Quorra broke away from Rubrix and went to lean against the dining room table that Nero had taken to sit behind again.

"Any suggestions on where to start?"

Scratching his short, black hair, Nero thought to himself briefly before replying. "You remember when I took you two to Flynn's Arcade in the center of Tron City?" At the girl's nod, he continued. "If you go there, about two blocks away to the north, there's a kind of Kiosk center. It's huge, you can't miss it, and your disc will tell you where to go if you do. People looking for employees usually upload job openings there. Just ask one of the people behind the desk for help, and they'll look for something you're interested in doing. Pretty basic stuff."

Nero stared at Quorra, his golden eyes unwavering and unwilling to show his surprise that she hadn't dragged Rubrix's pouting form out the door with her yet. And then he deducted what else she was after. Fishing around in his cloak pocket, he withdrew a translucent rectangle that had a small, blue disc design glowing in its center.

"You can borrow my train pass, I guess. Just be sure to bring it back."

He couldn't resist the fond smile that reached his face as he watched Quorra take his pass triumphantly and proceed to enthusiastically drag Rubrix out the door behind her, as he knew she would. Nero knew he was being too generous to the ISOs, more generous than he had ever been with his two coworkers, in fact, but there really wasn't much he could do about it.

After all, Kevin Flynn had made it clear to all programs in the system that the ISOs were to be assisted in any way possible. The difference between Nero and some programs was that he was actually happy to do so. Over the millicycles, those two brats (well, one was a brat, the other was almost too naïve to function) had grown on him more than he expected, maybe even more than he wanted.

Nero could only hope, after the turmoil he had been going through lately at the loss of his comrades, that that would prove to be a good thing.

It took everything Quorra had to pull Rubrix away from Flynn's Arcade as they passed by the building, with its shining neon sign and it radiating such a welcoming atmosphere. Part of her hoped that he would be too distracted to notice, but that really was a foolish thought. No matter how preoccupied Rubrix was, the soft beeps, whirls, and chatter coming from the Arcade's open doors always broke through his stupor and called to him.

"Just _one_ game of _Tron!_ We're here, in _his_ city, and I might as well pay him homage by beating Clu at the light cycle battle! C'mon, Quorra, please!"

"No."

"_Please!__"_

"NO!"

"Pl––"

"Rubrix, how old are you?" Quorra interrupted, torn between amusement and exasperation.

"The same age as you, obviously" was his dry reply.

"Then, explain to me why _I_ am so much more mature than you!"

"Again, obvious! It's because you're so _boring_, that's why."

Planting herself into a firm stance, Quorra gave a final yank on Rubrix's arm, who surprisingly gave way and allowed himself to be shoved in front of her, his laughter ringing around her.

"You're impossible."

Her brother ISO ignored her, waving solemnly back at the flashing arcade. "Farewell, my love––"

"––C'mon!"

Though the two attracted a lot of attention from other programs as they traveled their short path down the few blocks towards the Kiosk center, Quorra tried not to notice the stares and whispers flying all around them, and Rubrix remained completely oblivious, chattering happily about the high score he had racked up once from playing _Frogger_.

Quorra let him have the conversation, though admittedly she was barely listening. One thing she had learned about herself since her creation was that she did _not_ like being the center of attention, especially not by a large group of people. Whenever she went out, however, her skin began to prickle, her spine would tense, and her senses were heightened beyond what she thought was possible. It was why she made a point of never exploring the Grid alone if she could help it, though of course if neither of her friends were available, she would make due with the sharp gazes and the more-than-obvious murmurs. What she truly wondered was if the other programs could just _tell_ she was different from them, or if it was the mark on her arm that tipped them off to what she was. Regardless of that answer, she refused to cover up her tattoo; somehow, that seemed incredibly wrong of her to do, a blatant and ineffective yet no less disgraceful denial of her identity. She would just have to hope that the other programs became used to the ISOs the longer they shared the Grid with them. That, or she'd just have to get used to the unnerving attention.

For of all his reluctance at finding a job, Rubrix became strangely excited when they finally reached the Kiosk. His green eyes danced as he took in their surroundings. The Kiosk was a circular stand which stood in the center of an open square. Assistant programs and self-help databases were located alternately from each other all around the Kiosk, and many programs were already frequenting the area, either looking for work as well or amusing themselves with the food, clothing, and entertainment booths and stores which lined the square. It seemed that, among being a place for information, the Kiosk center was also a fairly popular recreation site for Grid inhabitants.

Quorra took Rubrix's arm and led him towards the Kiosk before he could "accidentally" wander over to the pretzel stand.

"Have you thought at all about what you'd like to do?" Quorra inquired, suddenly curious as she realized that she truly had no idea what she would be interested in or even what her skill sets were. Beside her, Rubrix shrugged dispassionately.

"Eh. Not really. I mean, technically, there _is_ a job that I am a bit interested in, but it doesn't really matter since ISOs are, more or less, restricted from it."

Quorra raised an eyebrow at that. She'd thought that, with as free as Flynn had said this system was, nothing could truly be barred from the programs that lived here. The fact that ISOs didn't have this freedom… She shuddered slightly, a feeling of cold settling disconcertingly within her.

Rubrix must have sensed it, because next he said, "I mean, I understand _why_, of course. They're aren't many of us, and Flynn's made it perfectly clear that if any of us get derezzed, he wouldn't be able to reconfigure us. There's just too much risk having an ISO work as a security program."

Quorra stopped in her tracks then, forcing Rubrix to stop with her. She looked at him searchingly, but a few strands of jagged hair had fallen into his eyes, making it hard for her to really divulge what his true thoughts were about the subject. From the slight sag of his shoulders and his sudden serious mood, though, it was obvious that he was less than pleased, maybe even a little sad, at the situation. The female ISO reached up, moving his hair out of his face, and settled what she hoped was a reassuring smile on her face.

"You've talked to Nero about this, haven't you?" He merely nodded, so she continued. "Tell you what, then? We'll find something that will accommodate the both of us for now, and I'll try to convince Nero to give you some basic training. If I angle it the right way, I can probably convince him before you can. _And_, if Flynn ends up summoning me before you, I'll also try to show him why he should make an exception. I'm sure you'd be a great fighter, and the Grid would be lucky to have you as a protector." And since she was already laying it on thick in order to cheer him up, Quorra decided to finish with, "Oh, and, maybe Tron will be there again, and I can tell him you want to meet him! I'm sure if anyone can tell if a program is worthy enough to join the ranks of security, it would be him."

"You–you'd really do that?" Rubrix replied, flabbergasted. Quorra was nice to him, sure, but she was never this nice. Was this a trap? She wouldn't tease him like this, would she? She _knew_ how much he longed to meet Tron, the Hero of the Grid!

"Of course, 'Rix." Quorra's smile widened. "I wouldn't lie about something like this, I promise."

She cried out in surprise, laughing as he suddenly scooped her up in a bear hug, twirling her around once before setting her back down. "You are the best sister ever!" he shouted joyously, the spring in his step back with a vengeance as he fixed a mock-critical gaze on her. "I still can't believe you actually _were_ in the same room with Tron, and you didn't even say a word to him! Hello? You know how much I would _give_ to have been in your position?"

The female ISO just quirked a cheeky grin at him. She knew how he acted in his fanboy moments, and it was best not to add any fuel to the already raging fire.

One of the programs at the Kiosk desk, a light-skinned young woman in a black, linen coat with blue circuitry and bright orange hair that matched her eyes, gave an amused smirk as the two ISOs approached her.

"Good afternoon, how can I assist you?" she questioned, a simulated voice subtly underlining her low, sultry tone.

"Why, yes, you can." Rubrix grinned, leaning down casually on the counter. Both female programs rolled their eyes at him.

"We were told that job listings were uploaded here," Quorra stated, "and that someone here can help us find something we're interested in."

"Ah, yes, that's certainly true," the program replied, activating a touch screen resting within the counter in front of her. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"A job where we could, preferably, work together, but beyond that, I can't really say." Quorra suddenly felt sheepish as her lack of specificity became painfully apparent. "I'm sorry, that's not too helpful, is it?"

"I've heard worse," the program quipped, her fingers flying over the keys as files flashed white lights over her pale skin. Her orange eyes rose suddenly from the screen, flickering over their faces, to the mark on their arms, to settle finally on Quorra. "You're ISOs." She said it plainly, her right eyebrow rising slightly. "I was under the impression that you were all being reimbursed quite handsomely for research."

"We're a bit more independent than most of our kind," Rubrix answered her unspoken quarry, "and I've heard honest work does a program good, wouldn't you say?"

"Hmm," was her distant reply as her attention returned back to her touch screen.

Her questions to them stayed professional after that, and through the research process of the variety of jobs around the Grid, the two ISOs learned very quickly that their capabilities remained a frightening unknown. All Quorra knew was that she wanted a job that would help other people, while Rubrix wanted somewhere he could earn energy and have fun at the same time.

Guess how many jobs fit that description?

To her credit, though, the program helping them remained thoroughly patient as the minutes ticked by; they would turn into actual millicycles if she and Rubrix didn't settle on something, but somehow, they'd always find something wrong with the descriptions or the job itself.

"Are you kidding me? Those hours are horrible!"

"The pay doesn't really seem worth what you actually have to work for…"

"'Employees must maintain a professional tone and a strong work ethic at all times,' what does that even mean? Do you know?"

A small _bing!_ and a flicker of light flashed from their assistant's monitor, interrupting their conversation. Her brows scrunched in confusion as she excused herself to open the message that had just appeared. Her expression cleared when she realized what it was.

"It seems we've just been sent some new job openings," she related to them, scanning the page for something the ISOs would like. She believed she had a pretty good grasp on what they were looking for, now that she had taken the time to observe them. Midway through the list, one in particular caught her eye. "Ah, yes, this might work. A new club is opening up soon, and they're looking for bartenders, hosts, waiters, performers, everything. The hours are mostly nights, but it's a club, so I doubt it'll be boring, _and_you'll get to serve the patrons that attend there, as it is a bit exclusive." She looked up to see Quorra's curious gaze and Rubrix's eager face. She smiled. "Sound like a deal?" She already knew the answer.

She held out her hand to them. "Hand me your discs, and I'll give you all the information I have here, including the location of the club. And I recommend that you both hurry over there. A job like this won't stay open for long."

The ISOs did as instructed, and it was only a spare moment before they had their discs back in their hands, and their assistant was wishing them a pleasant day before she moved to help another program that had arrived behind them.

"This'll be awesome, won't it, Quorra?" Rubrix was practically bursting with energy at the prospect. Quorra could have sworn his circuitry was glowing brighter than usual. "Working at the hottest new club on the Grid. Looks like we're getting our adventure after all."

"Don't get too excited. We don't even have the job yet," Quorra cautioned, already activating her disc to bring up the information on the club, so she could read about it herself.

"Always have to rain on my parade, don't'cha?"

Quorra ignored him, reading the text as it scrolled past her on its holographic display. She read the directions on how to get to the club, and she was surprised to find that its locale was actually the new tower that had been built in the center of Tron City near the Gaming Grid, which they had passed on the train. The club's name was called End of Line, and it's proprietor was a program named Castor. A gloved finger reached up to tap on the owner's name, since she noticed that a link to a photo was attached to it. The hologram blipped out for a moment before flickering back to life, lines and curves traveling rapidly every which way to present to her a 3D image of the program's face.

Quorra almost dropped her disc in shock.

There was no way… It couldn't be _him!_

But it was. At least, it certainly looked like him. But…_Castor?_

Huh. And here she had been, thinking he had been right when he'd said that she would truly never see him again…

* * *

**A/N: So, any word on when Tron: Uprising is coming out, or is it already playing on Disney XD and I'm just a loser who's missing it?**


	4. End of Line

**A/N: Well, I'm back. In black, that is.**

* * *

Fandom: _Tron: Legacy_

Pairing: CastorXQuorra

Prompt: Tron 50 Challenge

Title: _Entertainments and Diversions_

Chapter Four: End of Line

* * *

The elevator doors slid open to a wave of bustling voices, tinkling drinks, and a shock of vibrant white light as the two ISOs entered what would soon be known everywhere as the End of Line Club. Before them, a huddle of applicants already stood, waiting to be announced for their turn in the interview process, some passing the time with a free sample of energy shots to both celebrate and advertise the club's upcoming grand opening. A lone program manned the bar, his aqua-queen circuitry noticeable against the club's monochromatic theme.

Quorra observed all of this as if through a barrier of glass. Everything had seemed muted ever since she learned who the proprietor of the club supposedly was, and right then, she was questioning if her insistence on taking this venture had been a good idea.

Beside her, she heard Rubrix give a long whistle of appreciation. "Isn't this something?"

Quorra nodded, too overwhelmed to respond otherwise. She was about to suggest that they just turn around and leave gracefully when a clear but aloof voice answered from beside them.

"It certainly is."

The ISOs turned in unison to find a stunning female program lounging unobtrusively against the wall beside the main entrance to the club. Quorra wondered how they had missed her coming in, when she realized how easy it must have been for the program to blend in with their current surroundings. After all, she was wearing the rare white suit Quorra had only seen on a couple programs thus far, the white circuitry outlining her body's curves appealingly. The program's skin was also a stark ivory with her white hair perched atop her head in a tight and immaculate bun. At first glance, too, her eyes appeared that same white color—no doubt because of the dark makeup that rimmed her eyes—but upon closer inspection, Quorra realized they were actually the palest shade of blue.

Quorra elbowed Rubrix as she realized they'd both been staring unabashedly at this new program. Looking at some way to cover up their rudeness, Quorra asked, "Is it always like this?"

The program smiled, but Quorra could see that her eyes didn't share in her smile's warmth. "We certainly hope so."

"Oh, so you work here?"

The program's full-on, unblinking stare was starting to unnerve Quorra. "I don't. I work part-time in Installation."

Rubrix raised a dark eyebrow at that, and he couldn't resist asking, "If you don't work here, then are you applying?"

"No. I suppose you could say that I'm _scouting._ As a favor for a friend."

Quorra stopped herself from groaning aloud. If this program was looking for the best candidates—

"See anything you like?"

—then Rubrix just completely blew it for them.

Rubrix's exclamation of "ow!" as Quorra pinched his arm brought a brief, closed-mouth chuckle out of the program. Though it sounded elegant, like a bell's chime, there was an underlying reluctance, as if she was uncertain if laughing was the proper response or not. But then, Quorra had the impression that it wasn't a common occurrence for this program to smile let alone laugh.

The program studied the pair, holding her chin in one hand. Considering them for a beat longer, she crossed her arms and answered, "Maybe." Oh, good, at least they'd manage to amuse and not upset her.

Quorra followed the program's gaze as it wandered over the group of programs all around them, wondering what could make them different than her and Rubrix, what could make them better applicants or not. She wondered also if the program next to her already knew those differences far better than Quorra ever would, for she seemed so…knowledgeable of their world. Almost omnisciently so. It was her eyes that did it.

"I hope we'll find some reliable programs. Neither of you happen to be DJs by any chance? If so, you're hired; we're getting a little desperate."

Rubrix grinned sheepishly as he replied, "Well, this happens to be your unlucky day, ma'am. Neither of us is musically inclined at all."

Quorra thought it wasn't the time to mention that neither of them had been exposed much to music—neither that of the Users' world nor of the Grid's—since their inception into the TRON system. Finding a place to live and adapting to their living situation had taken precedence.

"That's too bad. And no 'ma'am,' please. My name is Gem. What names did the Creator give you?"

Rubrix introduced himself with a flourish while Quorra's greeting was much more reserved. Even so, she was beginning to enjoy talking to this new program. She wondered whether Gem knew the other Installation programs, the ones who had given Quorra her armor. She wasn't certain exactly how many programs were needed for such a job; she supposed that depended upon the Creator's needs and whims. The dark-haired program was just about to ask when Gem brought the conversation to an unintended halt.

"So, you're both ISOs."

An uneasy silence grew between the three, and Quorra wasn't entirely sure why she'd become as tense as she was. All she knew was that her heart—for that rush of energy and beating she felt in her chest had to be something like what Users also possessed, if her lessons with _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ were anything to go by—was racing frantically.

Gem's pointed stare darting from their glowing tattoos back into their eyes as she looked between them felt like the weight of thousands of stares to Quorra. For the first time, Quorra recognized the kind of presence this program had. It was subtly intense and knowing but was one that was so underlying and unsuspecting that you didn't even realize it was there until you looked up, and there it was, staring straight at you. But the unnerving thing was, you couldn't tell if it was gauging you with only a studying curiosity or if it was waiting for an opening to destroy you.

"Yyyyeeesss?" Rubrix answered, crossing his arms defensively in front of him. Always count on Rubrix to salvage a situation…

"Did I say something wrong?"

Neither ISO responded to Gem's question. In truth, they didn't know how to voice what it felt like to have their identities pointed out so singularly, as if being an ISO was the only thing that made them _them_. While ISOs were _what_ they were, that didn't necessarily define _who _they were, at least, not in Quorra's opinion.

"If it bothers you for people to take notice, why not just cover up your marks?"

Rubrix's response was immediate.

"Because we shouldn't have to."

Quorra silently agreed, but she was worried that this was it for them. Had they reached the end of the line at End of Line? That would be tawdrily ironic. Nero would actually smile at that. Would Gem ask them to leave? To never come back, even? But what about—

_Zuse. What if he _is _here?_

Gem seemed to mull over Rubrix's response for a bit before she nodded, sending a small reassuring smile their way.

"Don't worry. It was your names that alerted me as to what you were, not your marks. Those just confirmed it. A different team of programs specially designed by the Creator was called in for the ISOs' installation into the system; otherwise I would have been there. If you were regular programs, your names would have allowed me to recall who you were, but my systems came up with nothing."

Quorra's face felt hot by the end of Gem's explanation. This must be that embarrassment thing again. It was such an awkward feeling. She supposed they both had appeared rather defensive just now, and for no reason. But Gem dismissed her apology.

"We're happy to have you both here. Actually, we were hoping at least some ISOs would take notice of this place. Your potential is too promising for a growing business to ignore. Any ideas of what you want to do?"

"Not really," Quorra admitted, relieved now that the conversation had returned to a much lighter tone. Trying to make a joke at she and Rubrix's ISO status, she remarked, "We're both sorta new at this."

"Hmm. It's alright. I've got ideas for you already. You, for example," Gem said, pointing at Rubrix, "bartender. Charisma, learning potential, it's all there. You're also energetic, which is good, since you'll be on your feet, attending to customers and preparing drinks non-stop. And you, Quorra, hostess or waitress. You're reserved but professional, and that will fit with our clientele."

"You keep saying 'our' and 'we', and now I can't help but ask: who else are you referring to?" Quorra's mind whirled with the possibilities. Gem had said she was doing all of this for a friend, but that didn't necessarily mean… And even if it did, so what? This application process was likely to be a lengthy one, and by no means would they even be guaranteed a position just because of one recommendation. She and Rubrix still lacked experience that a starting business may not want to risk betting on, and now that she thought about it, maybe she had been wrong before. Maybe her eyes had deceived her or her disk malfunctioned or maybe Zuse had a duplicate program of himself, like Clu was of the Creator. After all, End of Line was owned by a guy named Castor, which didn't sound like Zuse at all and—

Gem pushed herself from the wall and smirked.

"Oh that. Remember that friend of mine I mentioned? He just so happens to be the owner of this club, and he doesn't see anyone unless I interview them first." She winked at the ISOs' matching stunned expressions. "Congratulations, Quorra, Rubrix. He'll be thrilled to meet you."

Gem led them to a side door located past the bar, explaining that they would meet Castor in his temporary office as the official one upstairs was still being constructed. They passed a couple doors that acted as storage areas, along with an emergency elevator. In Quorra's opinion, they didn't have nearly far enough to walk, because, before she compose herself, Gem knocked on one of the doors before letting herself in.

"Wait here," she said before the door shut behind her.

Rubrix released a long breath beside her, before whispering, "This is kinda crazy, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Quorra replied distractedly. _Stop worrying. It's not him. You're being paranoid. _"Crazy."

"What do we even say when we go in there?"

Normally, hearing Rubrix ramble on set her at ease, but his constant questions now only pointed out to her how out of their depth they both were. "I'm not sure. Just be truthful if we get asked anything, I guess."

"But what is he—?"

Rubrix was cut off as the door opened again. Gem's blank expression gave away nothing, and Quorra wanted to simultaneously run away and barge inside to get it over with. Her urge to run wasn't as strong as her need for answers, though, so she followed Rubrix as he entered, the door shutting automatically behind her.

The room was small, featuring a lone table and a few chairs littered around it. Everything was stark white, including the figure on the other side of the table. He was bent over a holographic blueprint of the club, but the 3D layouts of the building obscured most of his features.

Quorra's heart quickened as she got a flash of white, slicked-back hair, a glance of what looked like a white cane propped up against the table on his side, and a glimpse of what looked like coattails. How many other programs could have those same features as the mischievous interpreter program she'd met before? But she dared not hope, was perhaps too afraid to hope. Even if this program was Zuse, what did they even have left to say to each other?

"Here are your ISOs," said Gem, standing off to the side.

It wasn't him. She was being ridiculous. He had more important things to be doing, things for the Creator and the system, than to be wasting his time in some club.

"Ah, Gem, efficient as always."

His voice. That was the only thing that prepared her. Somehow, she just knew. She just knew that his look could be mimicked, maybe his style, and his mannerisms, too, but that voice was something no other program could fake. It was so smooth, so _rich_, completely lacking the digitized quality most programs' voices did to be replaced with an ever-present slyness. As if he knew more than everyone in the room.

The hologram blipped out of sight, the outline of the blueprint still glowing on the table's surface, but now she could see him fully. If this Castor _was _a double of the Zuse she knew, it was a flawless one, even better than Clu was of Flynn.

When he finally looked up from his blueprint, he took in the two ISOs fleetingly then did a slight double take, his vibrant gaze falling on Quorra. Eyes widening, his gaze dropped down again to the blueprint.

"My, my." He smiled to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. "My, my, my."

Surprisingly, those words had a calming effect on her. It seemed he was just as surprised to see her as she was him. To know they were both on the same uneven footing assuaged her nerves.

But it still didn't explain what he was doing here, or why he was operating under a pseudonym.

"You're confident about them, then?" Zuse directed to Gem. Gem rolled her eyes.

Quorra stared. That'd been the most expressive the program had been since she'd met her.

"I would not have brought them here if I was not. We are running out of time, Castor. Do I have to keep reminding you?"

"At least once more, darling." Zuse, or Castor—she wasn't sure exactly what to call him now—smiled. When he turned his electric blue gaze to her and her brother, both ISOs tensed, waiting for his verdict.

"Well, she has a point, doesn't she?" He said, an unflappable grin on his face. "A very fine point. I guess I can overlook your inexperience, though somehow, I'm sure you'll exceed my every expectation."

He directed the comment to the both of them, but his eyes lingered on Quorra. She clenched her fists to steady herself, only to become aware of the sweat on her palms.

Since when did she sweat like this?

"It'll certainly be a learning experience," offered Gem.

"For all of us, I'm sure," Zuse/Castor said enigmatically. "Granted that you both do want to work here, of course."

His expectant look alerted the ISOs to the fact that he did want a response.

Rubrix recovered first, flashing a smile at the two white-suited programs. "Yes, sir. Bartending sounds like fun."

"And you?" He asked Quorra directly. Speaking was suddenly much more difficult.

"Y-yes. Thank you," Quorra said, adding as an afterthought, "sir." His lips quirked up, and she wondered if she'd already made a fool of herself so soon. Must be a new record for her.

"_Wonderful,_" he purred, sounding pleased. And he did look satisfied as he fiddled with the blueprint, only to visibly deflate a moment later. "But that still leaves—?"

"Entertainment and security," Gem confirmed. Zuse sighed.

"Yes, what a state we've found ourselves in. All these pretty little programs floating about, and not a single one with some sense of adventure in them. And we've only got—?"

"About nine millicycles, give or take."

He let out a rueful chuckle. "At this rate, we won't make it, darling."

Gem furrowed her brow in concentration. "Surely, for security, you could as a favor from T—?"

"Normally, yes," Zuse interrupted. "But at the moment, he's too busy sorting this Abraxas business. He's utterly obsessed, exactly as Flynn intended."

Rubrix's ears perked up at the mention of the virus whose name was spreading unease throughout the system recently. Nero had been following the news about him, too.

Speaking of Nero…

"I might know someone," Rubrix said. At the undivided attention of the room's other three occupants, he grinned encouragingly. "Our roommate's a security program. He's not available right now, but I'm sure he knows some programs who'd like a change of pace.

"And," he added, suddenly sending nervous glances Quorra's way. "I might know someone who knows someone who knows someone else who's in the music scene. Their tastes are a little different, but it's good stuff."

"And who exactly are these programs you claim to know?" Quorra said. Rubrix was avoiding her eyes, and that was more than enough to tip her off. "You've been sneaking out after hours, haven't you?"

When word about Abraxas had become more than just rumors, Radia, the leader of the ISOs, had advised for the ISOs to adhere to a curfew to avoid being attacked. The curfew was entirely optional, but Nero had taken the advice seriously, knowing better than the ISOs the effects viruses could have on programs. And the ISOs were too precious to lose like that. They'd both gotten the sternest lecture of their life—which was, honestly, the only lecture of their life—but it had been enough for Quorra. After all, she had her book to pass the time. Rubrix, on the other hand, had been noticeably put out. But he'd followed Nero's advice and stayed inside at night, or so they had thought.

"Oh, come _on_," Rubrix whined, looking pleadingly at Quorra, "all the interesting programs come out at night, and you know it. You—you won't tell Nero, will you? Oh, my Creator, _please don't tell Nero!_"

Quorra held up her hands defensively. "Okay, okay, I won't. But I don't really think it'll matter anymore, since we'll be coming home late now."

"Oh. Oh, yeah, you're right. Excellent." He wrapped an arm around Quorra's shoulders, giving her a thumbs-up. "Coming here was the best idea you've ever had. Really, well done."

Quorra smiled back at him but became self-conscious when she remembered they had an audience. And that audience was wearing matching calculating expressions, analyzing the two ISOs' every move.

Pushing Rubrix off of her, she said, "Well, I guess we'll head off now. Rubrix will get in touch with those friends he claims to have, and, uh, when would you like us back for training?"

"Tomorrow," Zuse answered, though Gem had been about to answer instead. "Same time. I trust that's acceptable?"

"Yeah, of course," Quorra replied, leading Rubrix towards the door.

"Until tomorrow, then," and he sounded like his normal, playful self again. The urge to get away became overpowering, and she didn't fight it this time.

* * *

"What was that?" Ah, Gem. She did not sound entirely pleased, but when did she ever?

"What was what?"

"You know what."

"I believe that was the phenomenon known by the Users as 'having a sibling.' It looks tiring. Amusing, but tiring." Why couldn't he get the stairs on this office right? He was having a problem conceiving of a way to make them functional without taking up half of the dance floor space, but it was proving to be difficult. Perhaps he should leave it alone for the day. Especially since the temptation to add a touch of blue the exact shade of a certain ISO's eyes to the design was nearly too great to resist.

"No, I meant that wasn't much of an interview. Not compared to the others."

"Take it as a mark of respect for your judgment."

"I don't think that was the mark you were really paying attention to, Castor."

Castor grinned, turning from his blueprints to face his longtime friend and confidant. Gem's perception was as much of a never-ending source of amusement as it was a challenge for him. She kept his mind whirring with ideas and ambitions, even if sometimes that only meant devising new ways to try and tease her. It was always difficult, as they thought so much alike.

"Flynn wants them to become a part of his system as seamlessly as possible." He picked up his cane, examining it as he started to twirl it back and forth. "If I take advantage of that and of what they are, how is that really such a bad thing? You're the one that singled them out, after all. _You_ brought them to _me_, remember?"

A tiny smirk graced Gem's face as she nodded to verify his words. "I'll go inform the other applicants that the positions have been filled."

"Good luck. They're an unruly bunch."

"Nothing I can't handle."

And with that, she was gone.

It wasn't shortly after that he followed, a different destination in mind.

* * *

"Oh, can I go to the arcade now? Please?"

"Yes, Rubrix," Quorra said tiredly as they exited End of Line's entrance elevator. She still couldn't believe how tall the building was; it dwarfed the others around it by an obvious amount. But only the top floors were for the club. What was the rest of the building used for? Surely it wasn't just for show. "You can do whatever you want, seriously. Go ahead. I'll catch up."

"YEAH!" Rubrix embraced her in a bear hug, lifting her slightly off the ground and utterly shaking her concentration. "I'm so glad I found you."

And then he was off, almost running over a few programs casually strolling along the sidewalk.

"Always on the move," she muttered. The ISO took one last look up at the tower, and then she moved to follow Rubrix at a much more controlled, leisurely pace. Doing so would give him more time to play, she guessed.

She didn't get far, however, when she felt a hand close over her mouth, another wrapping around her waist to tug her back into a side street. Heart thumping widely, she thrashed, trying to shake whoever her assailant was—and who would even dare to attack her during the day like this? It couldn't be…Abraxas?

Elbowing her attacker in the stomach, she managed to free herself and grabbed her Identity Disk, freeing it from its holster. Spinning around with the intent to derez the threat, she froze at the breathless voice that reached her ears.

"Easy, lovely. It's just me."

And it was his voice, she knew that, but the figure before her wasn't wearing a suit of gleaming white. Instead, a cloak of darkest black covered his form, the hood of which obscured his face except for his smirking, thin lips.

"Zuse?"

His smile widened. "Sorry to frighten you, but I can't risk being seen in public, answering to that name. Flynn's orders. Only a handful of people know me as Zuse, and now that handful includes you."

"So, you lure me into a dark alley, huh? Bit of an overreaction, don't you think?" Lowering her disk slowly, Quorra smiled at him, coming down from her adrenaline rush. "After what you said, I honestly didn't expect to see you again."

"Nor I, you," said Zuse, unusually serious. "You just didn't seem the club type. And a joy though it has been, Quorra, you being here presents a bit of a problem for me. And I always find a way to deal with my problems."

The smile slid off her face. She was a…problem? Her?

An ugly, squirming feeling settled in her stomach at the thought, but that wasn't the only thing that was making her feel so strange. With sudden awareness, she recognized that she wanted to run again, but it wasn't because of nervousness. What she was feeling now made her earlier anxiety look like how a wildfire looks against a candle flame, for she didn't want to run now from nerves but from fear. A chilling, unsettling fear.

She couldn't believe it, but with the way he was talking… It was scaring her. She didn't feel safe anymore.

She didn't feel safe with him.

* * *

**A/N: Well, there we go. That was fun, wasn't it? I really hope I still have readers for this story, and I apologize SO MUCH for my long absence and to anyone's review that I didn't respond to. I have a feeling time got away from me, and I forgot to answer back. Just know that I received them, loved them, cried over them, and cherished them deeply. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, or added this story to their alerts. All of you are precious to me, and I hope this chapter was a good reward for you.**

**Also, THANK YOU to everyone who has sent me information about _Tron: Betrayal_, _Tron: Evolution_, and _Tron: Uprising_. Your insights have been invaluable in the writing of this story, and I am trying to incorporate as much as I can in this narrative. Keeps it congruent with the canon. If you ever see anything that sounds a little off, don't hesitate to tell me. Speaking of, I've been doing a bit of research on Abraxas, but I have to ask: what do you all make of him?**


	5. Follow Me

**A/N: And here's chapter five! This took much longer than I wanted to write, by the way, but I finally got it to say what I wanted. Please review and let me know what you think, and thanks to everyone who has read and/or reviewed so far!**

* * *

Fandom: _Tron: Legacy_

Pairing: CastorXQuorra

Prompt: Tron 50 Challenge

Title: _Entertainments and Diversions_

Chapter Five: Follow Me

* * *

Quorra stared at the program she'd come to respect in such a short time, at a loss of what to say, what to do. He'd called her a _problem_. Something he had to _deal with_. As if she meant little else but that.

"What do you mean?" she asked haltingly. She had to have heard wrong. There was something she was missing here. There had to be. Even so, the ISO shifted her weight in a subtle movement, preparing to run if she needed to. He'd stressed his need to operate incognito; he wouldn't pursue her out into a busy street. Or would he?

She didn't know if he would, and a hot wave of embarrassment coursed through her like smoke through a burning building as she just now realized how little about him she knew and how much she regarded him despite that fact. The two were utterly disproportionate from each other, and for the first time, Quorra feared that she had been wrong to trust him.

"Exactly as it sounds," Zuse confirmed. A pit seemed to open up in her stomach. Was he about to push her in and prove that her trust was misplaced? "It's one thing to know me as Castor. Many do. It's another thing to know me as the faceless Zuse. Fewer do, but they exist. But you know me as both, and you are not Flynn, Tron, or even Clu—which would normally be a good thing."

At the mention of the others, Quorra remembered what Flynn had called Zuse at their first meeting, and the pieces began to slowly fit together. "…I guess you're more than just an interpreter, aren't you?"

"Now there you go, being so clever, making it impossible for me to hate you." The rueful smile on his face was too brief for her to gain any reassurance from it. "But your intuition can't change the fact that you're a liability to me."

Quorra had a white-knuckled grip on her identity disk. Her body, stiff with tension, was ready to either crumble from the pressure or spring and attack at the slightest sign of a threat. It didn't help that she couldn't see Zuse's eyes—couldn't tell what he was thinking or what he was meaning to do—but he looked more like a malevolent attacker than ever now. If he'd just offer her a smile—a real one—then she'd know things were normal again. He was always smiling.

Or had that all been just a front? Once again, she had no idea.

And what did Zuse really expect? For her to just unlearn what she had learned? Was that possible? _Probably_, she thought with dread. It would be more difficult to find and delete that particular code for her than it would be with a Basic program, but if anyone could do it…

The sadness that came with that thought chilled her like an ice cube sliding down her spine. She didn't _want_ to forget about any part of him, especially not the part that had coaxed her from her silence. But what could she do?

Her attention refocused when she noticed him moving, but he only crossed his arms and leaned against the alley wall. He heaved a heavy sigh.

"Yes, it's a problem, but what should I do about it?" But his words were low, intoned to himself as if he were faced with simply deciding what to prepare for dinner that night.

"If you're worried about me telling someone," Quorra reasoned, "I won't, I swear. I haven't talked about that day to anyone. Not even Rubrix knows."

That was largely true. All Rubrix wheedled out of her was that Tron was there when she'd entered the tower, and fortunately for her, that was all he'd cared about. The rest was too personal to reveal; she was one of the few ISOs who appeared to malfunction when they'd entered the Grid. Her mute state, brief though it was, was something she wanted to forget. It made her feel like she was at a disadvantage—against both ISOs and Basics. Rubrix hadn't had any such problems. He'd received his armor with a cheery wink and a wave, chattering all the while apparently. His exuberance for everything the Grid had to offer was instantaneous. Even after Quorra became fully integrated into the TRON system, this same exuberance had not extended to her. Curious about her world though she was, Quorra felt herself longing for another.

She'd talked to enough programs to realize that hungering for the Users' world wasn't normal. For some, it wasn't even possible.

Quorra yearned to escape there now, even if it was just via words and even if those words described an imperfectly perfect version of the world Flynn came from. Anything to escape Zuse, who appeared to be sizing up her answer.

"Not even Rubrix, hm?" The slight quirk of his lips could have been a reassuring gesture or a mocking one, she couldn't tell which. "That's lucky for me _and_ you, then, pretty miss."

Deciding to trust her gut, Quorra lightly joked, "Well, it's not like you would've derezzed me if I had told him, right?"

But if she'd thought her attempt at playful banter would dissolve Zuse's odd mood and bring things back to normal, she was wrong, for his features fell into a blank mask at her words.

"The penalty for a Basic program terminating an ISO is permanent deresolution," he recited stiffly, almost like a reminder.

Quorra fought off the urge to fidget in front of him. Zuse's tightened jaw told her well enough that he was angry. In hindsight, she realized she'd insulted him pretty severely, though at the time, her quip had appeared harmless to her. But he was right. The Creator had made it clear the punishment a Basic would receive if he knowingly terminated an ISO. Since Flynn wrote every code of the Basic programs himself, he could always manually rez them back into the system again. ISOs, once derezzed, wouldn't be so lucky.

Zuse obviously hadn't been humoring _derezzing _her, just for knowing that he and Castor were one in the same. It wasn't that serious. He wouldn't risk getting himself terminated, not when he clearly held all these plans for the Grid with his new club…

All the same, she took a slight step back when she saw him move again, but it was only his hand, which he'd raised to wipe tiredly along his face.

"I forget sometimes that there's so much that you just don't realize about this system yet." Zuse hummed in thought, then turned to walk farther into the alley. "Follow me. I want to show you something."

Follow him? Was he serious? He wasn't slowing to let her catch up, so apparently he was. If she didn't start walking, she'd soon lose him in the darkness, the usual brightness of his light suit hidden under the dark robe he wore.

What was she supposed to do? He'd done an excellent job of scaring her so far, but he was also good at teasing her curiosity. He made it sound like there were answers where he was going, and Quorra liked answers. They made things clearer.

She took a step forward, paused, and then took another when nothing life-threatening happened to her. At a safe distance and not without a little trepidation, she did as Zuse asked and followed him, not relinquishing the grip on her disk for an instant. If this choice were a mistake—likely—then at least she'd be prepared to handle it.

The sounds of the city grew muffled the farther she walked. Things were much quieter back here, and Quorra's anxiety only heightened once she registered that fact. All she could make out clearly were the scuff of her boots, the clipped footsteps of her companion, and the occasional swish of clothing. A recognizer flew by overhead, its gentle hum, dazzling blue circuitry, and the searching spot light it cast down being all too brief a solace. Her light suit formed odd shapes and shadows along the walls, and sometimes she had to perform a double take to make sure she hadn't seen lurking within them the menace she thought she had.

Eventually, Quorra's paranoia got the better of her, and she couldn't take the silence anymore. "Zuse, hang on!" She forced herself to stop trailing him like some sad, little, lost thing. "Tell me what this is about, or I'm leaving to find Rubrix." Realizing how that sounded, she backtracked sheepishly. "Not to tell him your secret or anything. It's just, honestly, you're acting very strange."

"Feeling a little uneasy, are we?" As he turned to face her again, his lips formed into a smirk. "Now you know how I've been feeling since I saw you again."

Quorra narrowed her eyes at him. "…I don't understand."

"It's simple, really. I—"

"—No," she interrupted, surprising the both of them with the sudden authority in her voice. In a gentler tone, Quorra explained, "I'm not going to be talking to another mask of yours. It's your face or nothing, Zuse."

She'd gone too far, hadn't she? By the smile that was frozen on his face, she figured she had. But there weren't any other programs here to see him, to hear her call him by his real name. She didn't believe she was asking for too much. He seemed to have come to the same conclusion, since a beat later he nodded.

"Fair enough."

Reaching up his hands, he flipped back the hood of his dark robe, revealing the contrasting fairness of his features. Quorra released a quiet breath, relieved. It was such a simple thing, but seeing his entire face, even watching him smooth back his disheveled, stark white hair with his hands, relaxed her. She was back on even footing with him again, as far as she was concerned.

But when Zuse opened his eyes—bright, blue, and solemn—to look at her, the smile she intended to send him faded before it could reach her face.

"I have to be sure you understand, Quorra. You cannot let slip who I really am to anyone. I have to be sure, beyond any doubt, that I can trust you to be discrete. Because you're right. I'm more than an interpreter. To the programs of this system, I sometimes am the only thing standing in the way of their deresolution. I can't afford to be compromised; there's too much I still have left to do."

Quorra saw her opening, so she delicately asked, "But what is it exactly that you do?"

"I get programs—and sometimes just information—where they need to go."

Quorra looked sidelong at him, intrigued. "How?"

"Well, if I told you that, it wouldn't be such a notable skill anymore, now would it?"

Wearily, Quorra said, "Zuse—"

"Very well, very well. I guess I can share with you a bit. I do these things…" Zuse trailed off cryptically. Quorra couldn't help leaning in, eager to hear about his methods. He repeated,"I do these things…by any means necessary."

Quorra visibly deflated at the anticlimactic answer, but then she really listened to his response, raising a brow in question. "That doesn't sound, strictly speaking, legal."

"I suppose, strictly speaking, it sometimes isn't." Zuse wasn't making fun of her naiveté or her word choice. He'd phrased it too delicately for that. Quorra was grateful, even though she had trouble picturing Zuse doing anything overly illicit.

_But it looks like he knows how to dress for the part, doesn't it? _The faithless thought strayed across her mind, and she hated humoring the truthfulness it revealed.

"And the Creator—Flynn—he knows about what you do?"

Zuse nodded in affirmation.

If Flynn knew, then whatever Zuse did couldn't be too bad, right? Quorra had to be sure. "And he's okay with it?"

"For now, yes. For now, we see eye to eye. We want the same things."

So, Flynn and Zuse had formed a partnership together. From the sound of things, Zuse didn't anticipate that things would stay the same forever, but why? Zuse clearly held respect for the Creator—and trust was automatically implicit; after all, you could always have faith in the Users, every program understood that—but there was something else there, too, on Zuse's part. Quorra hesitated to call what she sensed from him resentment; that word was too strong. She heard it, though, underlying his words and remembered him displaying it before Flynn himself. Insolence, that's what it was, or some sort of impiety, maybe… Whatever it was, it was clear that Zuse didn't worship Flynn and all he touched like many Basics and even some ISOs did.

Was that a good thing or an indication of something darker within Zuse? It had to be the former; the latter just didn't feel right. After all, Flynn had laughed off Zuse's behavior, even seemed grateful for it. They were friends; they had to be.

_For now… For now…_

Zuse peered at her with a keen eye, sensing her doubt but for the wrong reason. "I don't just assist any program that stumbles my way, you know. They have to have a certain, shall we say, appeal? That's why I created the Castor identity. He fields candidates for Zuse on my behalf, gets a feel for who's worthy of Zuse's time and who's not."

"But it's all a lie, isn't it?" said Quorra, her wide-eyed but searching gaze fixed on his face. "Little do they know, they've been talking to Zuse the entire time."

"A harsher word than I would use," grinned Zuse, "but, yes, I consider it a necessary deception. With all these new threats popping up increasingly on the Grid, I have to be more selective, more careful. Besides, Flynn needs me for this, as I mentioned before. I believe in the Users' abilities to protect the Grid from threats, but sometimes, even Users need a helping hand. I often see and hear things Flynn and his _very_ busy boys wouldn't be privy to."

So, in the end, it _was _about protecting the Grid. Quorra bounced once on her feet, thinking. "When you say 'threats,' you're talking about Abraxas, right?"

"Exactly, lovely, exactly. That's actually related to what I wanted to show you before. Will you come along now? You really must see this."

Quorra, in a much calmer state of mind, followed the curious program as he made his way down the narrow alley once again. She placed her disk back in its holder as she walked, deciding that its presence was no longer necessary. Though she felt more comfortable, her brain was still buzzing with the information she'd been given.

So, this was about Abraxas again? There had been viruses on the Grid before, she heard, but none of them were like him. The most frightening thing was that no one could tell where he came from or what he wanted, whereas before, viruses had always been traceable to some corrupted program who'd gone off the reservation. So far, they had been informed that attacks had been few, but…

But what if that wasn't entirely true? With dread, Quorra looked back and saw the truth that had been right in front of her the whole time. Nero's unit. They'd all been wiped out, but he never specified what happened, always shying away at the topic or offering up some distraction from it. Quorra would bet her armor that they'd run into Abraxas or perhaps one of his infected. The experience had shaken him too much for it to have been a normal encounter with a rogue program. But wait, he'd mentioned it was a virus that did it at some point, hadn't he?

If the Abraxas and the virus that attacked Nero was one and the same, did that mean Abraxas would target Zuse if he found out who he was and that he was digging for information on him? But Zuse wasn't even a security program like Nero, and Nero barely made it out from the confrontation alive. A horrible image of Zuse becoming infected with Abraxas' virus flashed before her eyes, and it took all she had to stop herself from continuing the thought and to calm her racing heart.

_Slow down, slow down. I'm only jumping to conclusions. There's no proof that Abraxas is the common link in any of this. Besides, Zuse can take care of himself. I shouldn't even be worrying about him._

She pulled herself from her dark musings only when she noticed that they had nowhere else to go. Zuse had led her to the end of the alley where it spilled out into a spacious dead end. Bravely, the ISO stepped up beside Zuse, nearly shoulder to shoulder with him. Zuse watched, amused, as Quorra's eyes swept quickly over their surroundings before fixing on him, a questioning look on her face. This…was what he wanted her to see? An open space of nothing?

"Look around you," he advised. "Slower this time. Do you notice anything?"

Quorra's brows furrowed, at a loss as to what she was supposed to be noticing in this dead end other than the trash, dark, pebble-sized rocks, and the occasional miscellaneous item scattered around. "What am I looking for?"

"You see it already. Look closer."

A look of annoyance flashed across her face at his cryptic responses, but she took it as a learning experience. He said she was already looking at whatever it was he wanted her to see, but… Perhaps she wasn't looking at it the right way.

Taking a step forward, Quorra froze as tiny sounds like shattering glass came from under her foot. She'd stepped on a couple of the rocks, but rocks didn't sound like that. Rocks crunched under pressure.

Crouching down, Quorra plucked a damaged rock from the ground and studied it. When she noticed its unusually smooth, shiny quality, she nearly dropped the fragment in a mixture of shock and disgust, seeing the scattered pebbles around her for what they really were—or rather what they used to be.

"These are—?" Quorra choked. She couldn't say it.

"They _were _programs, yes. Quite a few of them, I'm guessing."

"But why are they here?" She cradled a few fragments in her hands, disbelieving. These had been programs; they'd been living at some point, heart beating, circuitry blazing with purpose, just as she was.

"Whether they're being dumped here—dying or already derezzed—or coming to die on their own, as instructed, I haven't been able to determine yet. As for why here specifically," Zuse said, coming to crouch beside her to examine the pieces better himself, "I'd say it's deliberate."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I'm the one that found them, just as intended." The small smile he gave only heightened the graveness in his eyes, the contrast between them all too apparent. "End of line, Quorra. The one thing all programs hear just before they're erased for good."

"And Abraxas is doing this?" said Quorra, her voice shaking.

"I don't know. It's impossible to tell with any certainty if they were infected with his virus. So little of them is left behind, and I've been unable to properly analyze it. If I had a full specimen—"

"Whether it's him or not," Quorra said, "doesn't that mean someone knows who you are?"

Zuse chuckled, surprising the ISO once again. "I doubt it. I've operated in this part of the Grid for cycles with a fair amount of control over the area. Whoever's doing this, I'm sure he knows that the End of Line Club is connected to me somehow. He just doesn't know _how _connected.

"Unfortunately—or rather, fortunately, for me—this isn't just happening here. All throughout the Grid, programs are turning up like this, in pieces, all for Tron, Clu, and their teams to find. They're the ones that tipped me off and are what prompted my own search."

And like one of the many flashes of lightning that ripped across the Grid's permanent, darkened sky, Quorra grasped the point he'd been trying to get across all along.

"This is why you have to be so careful. I've heard the rumors just like everyone else has. Basics and ISOs sense whatever's happening right now, and they're scared, but you can help them. You can figure this out and stop this if you're Castor _and_ Zuse. But," Quorra reasoned gravely, "if everyone knows you're Zuse, then you won't be able to help anyone…will you?"

"Not to any great effect," Zuse admitted. "My power is dependent upon my secrecy, so…" Zuse stood upright again, offering Quorra his hand. "Can you keep my secret, Quorra? Will you help me?"

Quorra stared at his gloved hand, noticing for the first time that he'd replaced his white gloves with black ones. Other than that, it was still the same as she remembered, all long fingers and slumbering strength hidden within it. She gently dropped the derezzed program fragments back on the ground then grasped his hand with her smaller one. It was immediately engulfed. The next second, she was back on her feet, barely feeling herself move. He didn't let go, and she guessed it was because he was waiting for her response.

"I was sincere before, sir, but I'll repeat myself. I swear I won't tell anyone. And if you need my help for anything, just ask." But still her words sounded so hollow, even to her. How could she prove to him that she was trustworthy, that she'd never do anything to endanger her home or the people in it? Suddenly, Rubrix's insistence for combat training sounded awfully appealing. If she could learn, if she could help Zuse and Flynn fight back… But that wasn't possible for her, and that kind of thinking wouldn't help her now. All she had was her candidness, but would Zuse accept it for what it was, or perceive something threatening, something false that wasn't truly there?

"…It's not in an ISO's nature to lie," Zuse intoned lowly, but at her proximity to him, Quorra heard him quite clearly. "Basics have the ability to lie, some quite easily in fact. We've learned to be deceptive in certain circumstances—perhaps a gift from our maker?" He sneered. There it was again, that derision. Quorra filed away his reaction for later. "But not you. I suppose I will have to put my faith in that."

"R-really?" After everything, _this _was his solution? In the end, it would be this simple?

"Yes, I should think so," Zuse said. "Why? Am I wrong about you, Quorra? Should I attempt a reconfiguration of your system to be sure?" He pulled her closer, and that's when she panicked.

"No!" Quorra exclaimed, pulling away. The tightened grip on her hand and the amused grin that spread across his face told her that he was only joking, but he didn't persist. She stopped, calmed herself, and responded more rationally, "No, no, you can trust me. I couldn't betray you, Zuse. I wouldn't want to."

"Then, I suppose we have reached an understanding." No sooner had they shook on it than Quorra found that her hand was completely her own again. She hadn't noticed how comforting his warmth on her hand was until it was gone.

"You're still not entirely yourself, though," Zuse murmured.

"What? No! I'm fine." However, Quorra glanced up at him a little too sharply, nullifying her words.

"I really didn't mean to startle you," Zuse said, looking back at the lingering traces of death all around them, "but I suppose seeing this would unsettle any program."

"Well, I've never seen anyone get derezzed before," the dark-haired program admitted, "and all this _proof_ of it, I guess, makes me a little nervous. Not to mention the talking about it like we did before…"

At seeing his raised eyebrow, Quorra would've hit herself over the head if she could reach around the foot in her mouth. Hadn't she already upset Zuse when she'd accused him of wanting to derezz her before? And now she was bringing it back up again!

"Not that, um, not that _you _would do that to me." _What am I doing?_ "I know you wouldn't _now _for sure. Uh, derezz me, I mean. It's just beforehand, well, I was a little worried, but seeing all this, seeing how—how _awful_ it could be, I just know you wouldn't do that, and I'm sorry for joking about it before."

"Have you really been worrying about that? No wonder you've been behaving so strangely," he said mildly. "But you're wrong about one thing. I _have _derezzed programs before, and I'm likely to do so again. Don't fret, though, lovely. I only derezz the particularly deserving. _Derezz you_, honestly."

At his light laugh, Quorra felt like jumping in front of an oncoming disk. _He_ was the one who was behaving strangely, not her. But she couldn't think that with any positivity. He was right again. There _was_ still so much she didn't know about this system or its inhabitants, to say nothing of its strangest one.

After all, what kind of program would you have to be for Zuse to derezz you?

She didn't want to think about it.

It was with some surprise that, as she turned to leave—believing their peculiar conversation to be over—Zuse's voice called out.

"Now, hold on! Where are you off to in such a hurry? We've much to discuss, you and I."

"…We do?" Hadn't they just had a pretty lengthy discussion? And the way he sounded just now. He sounded exuberant, vibrant, playful.

He sounded like he did when they'd first met. Normal. At least, from her perspective, this was his normal conduct.

"Oh, I certainly think so." He caught up to her instantly with his long strides, and they walked side by side, navigating around tight corners and any other obstacles in their path. "I, for one, am curious to know how you found me."

"Isn't that working under the assumption that I was looking for you to begin with?"

"You mean you weren't?" Zuse sounded genuinely surprised. Quorra finally released a full smile, elated at his reaction.

"No. Really, we came here to find work."

"Is that so?" he remarked slyly.

"What?" Quorra asked defensively, her smile dimming.

"Nothing, nothing. It's just kinda funny. The one place you go looking for work I know you probably don't need—"

"How would you know what I—"

"—and I just so happen to be the owner of said place. What do you say to that?"

"Uh," stuttered the ISO, at a loss as to what he was implying. "Just a coincidence? I really didn't know it was you. I mean, I saw your picture, but I figured it wasn't you because of the whole Castor thing, but as it turns out…" Quorra trailed off, uncertain. From that admission, she sounded like either an idiot or a liar, and she couldn't decide which made her feel worse.

"As it turns out," Zuse repeated, smiling. He attempted to fix his features into something that was somewhat serious, but on the inside, he was beaming. It was like the start of a joke: Two ISOs walk into a bar, and it just so happened to be his. Of all the innumerable possibilities! But no matter, coincidence or not, he was certain to benefit from it.

"I believe you, you know," continued Zuse, not at all convincingly. On the defensive again, Quorra opened her mouth to protest but saw from the exaggeratedly serious look on his face that he was just teasing her. She'd seen enough of him now to tell when that look was real, having just been on its receiving end minutes before, and when it was faked.

_I haven't even worked for the man yet_, thought Quorra, _and I'm already tired._

They had almost made it back to the opening of the alley, for already she could see other programs strolling to and fro along the sidewalk, most looking engaged and extremely busy.

Zuse flipped his hood back on but left it so only his hair was covered, his vibrant eyes fixed on the bodies that passed by, all of them failing to notice the two programs lingering in the darkened space. He looked much less menacing with it that way, Quorra noted. Almost roguish in comparison to before… Quorra diverted her gaze when she realized she'd been staring.

Apparently, she got away with it, for he merely said, "I didn't know there was a picture of me just floating around out there. That could spell trouble for me later." He tapped his chin ponderingly. "I'll need to ask Gem to take care of that."

At the mention of the alluring female program, Quorra perked up, a question searing in her brain, begging to be released.

"One last thing." Quorra stopped Zuse as he moved to walk down a fork in the alleyway she hadn't noticed before. She guessed it traveled directly back to his club.

"Yes, lovely?"

"Just so I understand… _Does_ Gem know?"

"Of course," Zuse said. There was a distinct absence of feeling within Quorra as she heard his confession. "Hard to hide something like this from a program like her."

"How long has she known?" _And did you do the same to her as you did to me when you found out?_

"Oh, let's see. Since the beginning, almost. It really didn't take her long to figure it out."

Whereas, it had taken her, Quorra, far too long. That's what he was saying…

_Don't be ridiculous, Quorra._

Shaking herself from the black mood that threatened to grip her in its icy claws, Quorra refocused. Why did she care so much? This wasn't even any of her business. Yet she felt compelled to seek answers. Even if she didn't like the answers, she wanted them anyway. And dammit, some part of her wanted to impress him, to prove that she was more than that shell of a program that he first met. She wanted to prove that she was still seeking answers, still asking questions, as he'd once praised her for doing. "And, how did she? What tipped her off?"

"Ah." Zuse looked down, a secret smile forming on his lips as he fell into memory. "I'm afraid that's a personal matter."

"Oh," Quorra stammered, somewhat blindsided by the short, enigmatic response. She should have guessed… "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." His voice was soft, not at all disapproving, but she couldn't bring herself to look back at him. She paid close attention, however, to his receding footsteps, waiting for him to leave so she could find some normalcy of her own again.

"See you tomorrow, Quorra." She jerked her head around to Zuse's slight call but found him still walking, his back to her. He lifted a hand up in a lazy wave. "And don't forget: it's Castor from now on."

He rounded the corner before her quiet response of "Of course...Castor" could reach him.

Quorra re-entered the main street, overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle around her. Or perhaps she was more unsettled by what she had just left behind. Either way, she needed to find Rubrix and—

And not tell him anything about it.

_So much for clearing my head. _Quorra sighed. _Aside from the Abraxas stuff, I can't really talk to him or Nero about this._

No, she couldn't speak about this to anyone, except the program that was the sole source of her scrambled thoughts to begin with. And perhaps Gem. She and Quorra were…friends? Could you call someone that, even if she only spoke to you for a few minutes? Isn't that what you called someone who was helpful to you?

Quorra would just have to discover that tomorrow. She had to get Rubrix, even though she was sure he probably hadn't even noticed her absence, and tear him away from the arcade. They still had a DJ to find before tomorrow.

Tomorrow...

Pausing for a moment longer, Quorra glanced back to where Zuse had retreated, knowing she'd find the alley empty, disappointment settling in her like stagnant water when she turned out to be right.

What really bothered her was not understanding _why _she even felt disappointed in the first place.

He confused her. No, that was an under-exaggeration. Zuse utterly perplexed her.

And Quorra could honestly say she didn't care for the feeling.

* * *

**A/N: Yay, everyone's confused! This is great! **

**So, as you can probably tell, Abraxas is going to be a big part of this story. Let me make clear right now that I have not played _Tron: Evolution_, and I am not at a point where I can, sadly. While I intend to use as much of the canon information about him as I can, please take into account my lack of knowledge on the subject and my artistic license to do what I must to continue this story. After all, I don't really want to do a rewrite of the Tronverse with a Castor/Quorra pairing; rather, I wish to explore this pairing and this world and give you guys an original story that stays true to the spirit of _Tron_ instead. If, however, there is anything about Abraxas, Clu, or any of the characters/events in the Tron series that you want me to consider keeping, please add that to your review or send me a PM, and I will do my best to make it work. But if I can't, then I can't. I'd rather sacrifice a minor detail and still deliver a great story than preserve a minor detail but only give a mediocre story.**

**Anyway, enough rambling. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!**


	6. Work

**A/N: So sorry for the wait, everyone! I had a bit of writer's block for awhile, but for some reason these past few days, I got a surge of new ideas for this story. This has resulted in a fairly long chapter to make up for my absence. I hope you enjoy it. A lot of interesting stuff is happening here.**

**As always, thank you so much to everyone who's been keeping up with this story. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

Fandom: _Tron: Legacy_

Pairing: CastorXQuorra

Prompt: Tron 50 Challenge

Title: _Entertainments and Diversions_

Chapter Six: Work

* * *

The room was dark, but not eerily so. Quorra felt quite at ease in this darkness, as indicated by the softly pulsing circuits on her light suit, now devoid of its armor. Rubrix had insisted at going it alone with the music mission, and she'd been too tired to argue. Plus, she thought it would be a good time to catch Nero and ask if he knew any security programs that wanted a new assignment. If he was in a good mood, maybe she could also try to get him to open up about the virus attack.

When she'd entered their apartment, though, she found it empty, and from the looks of things, Nero had been gone for a while. The message he'd left for them was, as expected, purposely vague, the dark-skinned program carrying a scowl on his face the whole time he gave it. He'd be out for the rest of the day and night on a new assignment, he'd contact them in the morning, don't let Rubrix do anything stupid, _et cetera, et cetera._

Disheartened but determined to make the best of things, Quorra had resumed her favored spot on the couch, picking up _Nineteen Eighty-Four _again, but soon discovered that her concentration for the day was shot. She read sentences multiple times without understanding the words, often skipping around the page to places before zoning out completely. So she closed the book, carried it to her room, placed it on her nightstand, and left it there as she burrowed under her bedcovers. Rest, that was what she needed. Rest.

But while her body stayed perfectly still and relaxed, her mind did not. Her thoughts about Zuse, of all the things he told her, ran in circles over and over again. She hoped Rubrix would return soon to give her something new to think about.

Above all, she wished Flynn would call upon her again, for research or otherwise. She had much she wanted to ask him. This whole thing with Zuse, with Abraxas, with her and her fellow ISOs… She had a feeling it was bigger than all of them somehow. It would be nice to have the Creator's take on things.

It was with these thoughts that sleep took her, like the slow but all too instant moment when sunset quietly gives way to starlight without anyone noticing.

When Rubrix returned a few hours later, he entered Quorra's room, mouth open to begin his report…only to stop at her peaceful form. A warm smile lit up his face, and he shook his head at the sight of sheets tangled around her body and the bedcover bunched on the floor. He straightened them out, covering her more securely with them, pausing only to remove the long gloves she'd forgotten to remove before she went to sleep. Deeming she looked far more comfortable due to his efforts, he left the room, still smiling.

The day hadn't gone exactly as planned for him, but he would persevere. Besides, with Nero gone, that meant he had a free bed to sleep in tonight.

* * *

The next day was a flurry of movement. Surprisingly, Rubrix wasn't the cause like he was most mornings. (Well, not entirely.)

"Are you sure they said no?" Quorra asked for the third time in as many minutes.

Rubrix let out a puff of hair, amused, as he lounged against the couch, watching as Quorra darted in and out of her room, then back in again.

"Unless 'no' means something else in Basic-speak, then yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"I thought you said you could convince them," said Quorra, her voice coming distantly within the confines of her room. A clattering sound of something—a bunch of somethings—falling over reached his ears. "The club opens in just a few millicycles! Castor—"

"You let me worry about Castor," Rubrix said as he folded his hands behind his head. "I don't think he'll be too upset. Seems like a cool guy. Besides, there are others. I can always go back tonight."

Quorra appeared in the doorway of her room, her wide eyes the only thing that hinted at the worry she felt. "Just…be careful out there." A pause took ahold of the room, and it was clear she was debating what to say next. "I wish you would let me go with you."

"Maybe next time," acquiesced Rubrix gently. "After we've worked on blending you in better with everyone."

A furrow appeared in Quorra's brow. "I can… I mean, I don't want to, but I can cover up the mark if I need to, Rubrix."

Rubrix shook his head, rising to a sitting position. "That's not what I'm talking about. The mark's not really the problem, and I wouldn't let you or make you do that. I don't cover mine. It's just, uh, how do I put this?" He rubbed a hand through his hair, searching around the room for inspiration. "You just always seem to get this look of wonder whenever we're on the Grid. Like you can't really believe what you're seeing, and you're trying to take it all in at once. People notice."

A blush crept up Quorra's cheeks as she thought about what she must look like to other programs. Like a child. A child-program just learning its algorithms and functions. In a way, that was exactly what she was, what all the ISOs were, but it seemed like others had a better handle on themselves than she did. Even Rubrix did. But how could she not look at something as phenomenal as the Grid and not feel overwhelmed with awe? Even though she felt stirrings for the User's world, there were things about the Grid that amazed her, and apparently, she wasn't doing anything to hide that fact from anyone, either.

"You sure you're not confusing me with yourself," Quorra asked sulkily, remembering all the times he'd acted like an over-enthused puppy in public. And _he_ was calling _her _out on her behavior?

"I know I can act a _little_ childish," Rubrix said, "but I'm that way around you because I'm comfortable around you. Believe it or not, I can actually act like a very responsible guy around strangers."

"Well, now I definitely want to go with you to see that, because you're right." Quorra crossed her arms in front of her, trying not to show that she was pouting. "I don't believe you."

"Hey," Rubrix admonished playfully, seeing straight through her. "Don't be embarrassed. It's cute. Very endearing."

"You're not helping."

In an attempt to justify not looking at Rubrix, Quorra headed over to the kitchen to busy herself with…something. Half-heartedly, she grabbed a dishtowel off the counter and began scrubbing even though the entire area was perfectly clean.

"Did you ever get in touch with Nero?"

Quorra paused, bringing her eyes to Rubrix's concerned one. "No, did you?"

With a shake of his head, Rubrix intoned, "I've left him a few messages about what's happening with us over the next few days, minus my transgression, of course. It's just not like him, being distant to us like this. Typically, he would leave a message here _plus _blow up our disks with messages until one of us answered. Y'know, to give us the Talk."

"Which apparently you need." Quorra couldn't help but tease, knowing that he referred to the curfew talk. But the seriousness of the situation soon set in. "He was supposed to call again this morning."

Rubrix shrugged before lying back again. "He's probably just really busy. First day back and all. Probably doesn't want to mess up his focus by letting any distractions get in the way."

Quorra nodded, inwardly hoping that that really was all it was, and that he wasn't slouched down in a ditch somewhere, half-derezzed and fading away, bit by bit. A flash of the scene Zuse had shown her of those derezzed programs blurred her vision and left her heart pounding sporadically. There was no way… There was just no way that could happen to Nero. He was too strong to let it.

But maybe those other programs had been strong, too.

Without another word, the female ISO flitted back into her room and attempted to distract herself. She checked herself in the mirror in her bathroom yet again, making sure the armor of her light suit was applied correctly, scrutinized her makeup, and brushed her hair for the third time. A small tinge of hunger made itself known in her stomach, but she felt far too nervous to eat.

It wasn't just because of Nero's acute absence. She'd felt this way the moment she'd woken up this morning, before it became clear that he wasn't going to check in like he promised. She knew what it was. Every time she thought of the End of Line Club, her nerves would surge again and she'd feel shaky afterwards. It was just training today, but to Quorra it felt like it was so much more than that. This would truly be the first time that she did more than live on the Grid; she'd become a part of it, a fully functioning member providing a service to others. Intrinsically, she knew she wouldn't fail, but the possibility of it made her wish she could split apart, if only to escape the bundle of fear that was growing in her stomach and spreading to her limbs like a…

_Like a virus_.

Quorra reached up a hand—ungloved—to her forehead. Normal. She felt normal. She was fine. She needed to stop thinking this way.

It was rare, but programs could sometimes make themselves sick—could corrupt themselves—without any outside influence. One of the most talked about, unexplainable phenomena on the Grid, until the ISOs showed up.

She just kept moving. The closer it got to the time they had to leave for the club, the worse it got. Quorra felt like her head was replaced with a balloon full of empty space and hot air. The lightness was starting to make her dizzy. She couldn't seem to hold on to a thought before it escaped the thin elastic barrier to be replaced with something else.

She jumped when a hand perched itself on her shoulder.

It was Rubrix.

"Quorra." He turned her around and grabbed her face with his hands, fixing his forest green eyes on her deep blue ones. "Stop worrying. Everything's gonna be fine, so just relax, alright?"

He sounded so sure. Quorra allowed herself to believe him.

"Sorry." She smiled, taking his hands away from her face and into her own. "I'm being silly."

"Soooo… No different than usual?"

Quorra swatted at him.

_Always ruining the moment_.

As they finished getting ready, they grabbed their passes and left to board the next train. It was standing room only when they boarded, and as Quorra held on to the railing, waiting to approach their stop, she took a moment to be honest with herself. It was more than just the job she was nervous about, more than just the unknown of what a club scene would be like, whether Rubrix would come through with them for entertainment, or of what Nero's status was.

It was the fact that all of this would be going on at once, and she had a feeling that a pair of electric blue eyes would be watching her the entire time. Waiting for her to screw up. Waiting for her to prove that he really couldn't trust her with his secret.

Waiting for her to become a problem.

* * *

Having to tell Gem when they arrived that neither of them had secured the programs they'd promised was nothing short of mortifying. The mysterious program's understanding smile and assurances were worse to withstand than if she had yelled or been obviously disappointed in them. Quorra had an inkling that she was the only one who felt that way.

Things would be so much better if she could just forget the tail end of yesterday's conversation.

_Does Gem know?_

_Of course._

_Since the beginning, almost._

_What tipped her off?_

_That's a personal matter._

Catching Gem's pale stare, Quorra couldn't help but wonder. Did she know that Quorra now knew about Zuse and Castor being one in the same? The ISO could swear that she did, her gaze was so cutting, so significant.

Quorra gave herself a mental shake. She was imagining things.

But it was such a strange feeling. Her perspective of her world had changed with Zuse's revelation, and she felt that the world had changed with it. Only it hadn't. Everything continued on, exactly the same as before without any pause for reflection or astonishment. And she was left adrift, floating on the waves in nothing but a slab of wood, waiting for it to tip over and the water to submerge her. Even if she _could_ talk to Gem about it, would that even be wise? A secret like this one, even shared, wasn't something that would do for casual girl talk.

Maybe it was best, then, that Gem gave absolutely no sign of knowing and acted as she usually did. Quorra felt less tempted this way.

"We've found a few programs interested in security," Gem told them as she led them from the elevator. "They'll do for now. We've decided that the first few nights will be limited engagement." At their questioning looks, Gem clarified. "Invitation only. It'll be good for the staff. Most of you are new to the club scene, so this will get you used to what you can expect."

Two programs—one female, one male—were already behind the bar, becoming acquainted with the setup and everything on tap. A few others were studying seating charts. Quorra took them to be the new waiters and waitresses. A lone female program with long, blonde hair in a ponytail stood at the entrance. A hostess?

It took a moment for Quorra to realize why the room felt so empty even with all the programs currently spaced around the room. Zuse wasn't here.

_It's Castor, _she chastised herself. _If you keep calling him Zuse in your head, you're going to slip up one day, and then what will happen?_

Gem stopped in front of the blonde-haired program. "Quorra, this is Nydia, our head hostess. She'll be training you today. Rubrix, if you'll follow me."

"Anywhere you want," Rubrix replied, winking at Quorra who was in the process of looking at Rubrix with something akin to pity. Gem, thankfully, appeared amused. She was smiling. Sort of.

The Siren led Rubrix over to the bar, leaving Quorra and Nydia to get acquainted. Despite the fact that she looked a little younger than Quorra, Nydia spoke with confidence and enthusiasm, and it was clear that she'd lived on the Grid for a long time. Much longer than Quorra.

After re-introducing themselves, Nydia led Quorra over to a comfy booth settled along the club's wall. A pad was resting on the table, its black screen gleaming against the stark whiteness of the table. Nydia tapped the screen with her finger, and it instantly came to life.

"So, this is your first time working in a place like this, right?" Nydia asked.

Quorra shifted in her seat. "It's actually my first time working anywhere."

"Really?" Nydia's head jerked up, and Quorra found herself staring into eyes that were almost violet. "Well, you're lucky. Our job's the easy one. Although, if things get really busy, we'll be expected to help out the waiters and bartenders, too."

"I'm sure," Quorra said, leaning forward slightly to try and get a better view of whatever was on the pad's screen. "Do you think we'll be busy?"

"Oh, definitely," Nydia replied, scrolling a finger up the screen. "My friends have done nothing but freak out about this place since I told them about it. Even if this club were a complete dump, which it obviously isn't, it'd still draw a crowd. New additions to the Grid always do."

Finding whatever she was looking for, Nydia spun the pad around so that it was facing Quorra.

"This is the EOL Pad. It holds pretty much everything you'll need to know about this place. Work schedules, menus, reservations, events, and what have you. It updates in real time, so you can sync up your disk with it and download all the information. It'll update itself, so you don't have to worry about that after the initial sync. Pretty cool, right?"

Nydia showed Quorra how to sync up her disk with the pad, the entire time chattering about the other employees.

"The guy in the white suit rocking the goatee back there is Shaddix, the head bartender, and next to him is Pandora, though she's really not so bad. And I don't know anything about the new guy that came in with you, other than he's really hot."

"Ah, that's Rubrix, my brother."

"Oh." Nydia paused, looking out-of-place for the first time in the conversation. "Sorry. Didn't mean to make it awkward."

Quorra smiled reassuringly. "It's alright."

"Yeah," Nydia said. "Anyway, over there is Ren, the one with the wavy hair hanging halfway in his face. He's quiet, a little shy, I think. Then there's Wisteria, with the white hair and ultra-serene expression. Incredibly perceptive, though. She gives me the creeps sometimes. And finally there's Magnum, who looks like a bouncer, I know, but he's actually really good with the customers. I've seen him in action. Actually, all three of them work as one of the most solid teams I've ever seen. Like the Coneheads."

Quorra looked up from her disk. "You watch _SNL_?"

"Do I watch _SNL_? Please. I feel like I _live SNL_ most days." Nydia grinned. "But yeah, it's pretty funny. The Users have a great sense of humor."

The ISO was intrigued. Had she met a program who didn't just believe in the Users but was also a fan of them like she was?

"So, do you watch for fun or for education?" Quorra asked.

"A little of both. Well, to be honest, mostly for fun, though." Nydia sighed wistfully, staring off into space. "Don't you wish you could see it sometimes? Their world, I mean, and not just through the lens of a camera, but to see it for real?"

"All the time."

Nydia came out of her trance and stared at Quorra as if she was really seeing her for the first time. The inevitable dart of her gaze to the glowing mark on Quorra's shoulder came just as she knew it would. Dread filled her as she wondered how the program would react.

"Oh, an ISO. I should have realized…" Nydia trailed off pensively, sadness creeping through her voice. As if a light switch had been turned on, Nydia suddenly brightened considerably. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course. I was just hoping to meet another program like me. All my friends think I'm really weird to obsess over this User stuff like I do. They think it's unrealistic." She laughed, as if the whole thing were really absurd. "But now I'm really glad that we're working together, Quorra. I feel like I can be my whole self around you."

All the tension that had been building in Quorra's body was released at that admission. So Nydia wasn't an ISO-hater or anything like that.

"I'm glad we're working together, too." Quorra matched Nydia's beam. "Friends?"

"Definitely. What else are you into, Userly speaking?"

"I've been wanting to take up more reading. I actually got a book from the User's world. Not just an uploaded, public domain file, but a real solid book. _Nineteen Eighty-Four_."

"Whoa," Nydia breathed, star struck. "Are you serious? Those are incredibly rare here, and such a renowned title. How'd you get it?"

"It was a gift. From a friend." Quorra inwardly grimaced. She hoped Flynn would be okay with her assuming that about their relationship.

"Who is this friend, and when can you introduce me? Seriously!" Nydia looked around surreptitiously before leaning in closer and lowering her voice. "Be real with me for a second. Was it that Zuse guy everyone always talks about? I've heard he's good at getting his hands on all kinds of rare things and information. Some think he can even create things from the User's world himself and rez them here."

Quorra's heart stopped at the mention of Zuse's name before pounding a harsh rhythm in her chest. She felt like a target was on her back now, and even though Nydia was shooting blind at it, the world was dangerously shifting forward, trying to make sure she would hit the bull's-eye. And the damn book didn't even have anything to do with Zuse! Quorra could _not_ keep reacting this way at the very mention of his name.

Fixing a blank look on her face, the ISO listened with growing dread as Nydia rambled on every rumor she had ever heard about the elusive program. It all sounded like exaggerations to Quorra, especially the whole rezzing thing, something only the Creator was supposed to have the power to do. But a small voice in her head humored the possibilities. What if he could do things like that? What would it mean for him, for her, for programs as a whole? What would it mean for Flynn?

But the chatter soon died down from Nydia, and Quorra saw that she was waiting expectantly for the ISO's answer. How ironic it all was. That she was hoping for a confirmation of a rumor about her very employer, and she had no idea who he truly was. However, Quorra's actual answer sounded even more absurd than Zuse, but if she hesitated any longer, she might draw suspicion.

So, Quorra told the truth.

"I got it from Kevin Flynn, actually."

She was met with stunned silence. After awhile, Quorra started to fear that Nydia had short-circuited. Even the blue lines in her suit seemed to freeze in place.

"What?" the blonde finally whispered, looking at Quorra as if she had just encountered a beautiful but dangerous thing.

"I got it from Kevin Flynn," Quorra repeated just as quietly. "You know, the Creator."

"Oh, I know!" Nydia squeaked. "We _all _know who that is. Just—_wow!_ Really? This is gonna take a little time for me to process. Even better than Zuse, I don't…"

Quorra furrowed her brow as Nydia became more and more incoherent. However, the ISO jumped when Nydia suddenly slammed both hands down on the table, searing Quorra with the most intense looked she'd ever seen. It was almost manic.

"You listen to me, Quorra, and you listen good. You treat that book like it's precious, more precious than data, more precious than energy even, because it is. Do you even know how much something like that could be worth?"

"I'm…sure it'd sell for a lot."

"Oh, yeah, but I'm not talking about that. It's worth more than it's monetary value. No, it's what's inside it. The information. A passing glimpse into the User's world, into the Creator's mind, even, since it once _belonged_ to him. Do you know how many of us _want _that?"

"I—"

"I mean, yeah, sure, we have the television shows and the films and the public domain materials the Creator's given us to learn from, and I actually enjoy just experiencing that stuff. Some other programs, though… They're not watching and reading to enjoy it. They want to be like the Creator! Even worse, some want to _replace _the Creator."

This conversation…was _not _going at all the way Quorra first thought it would. She was feeling scared again, like when she wasn't sure if she could trust Zuse or not. Unlike that time, though, Quorra knew she could trust the person she was speaking to. It was everyone else who she was becoming unsure of.

Nydia continued. "So you get it, right? As completely cool as it is, you _cannot _tell just anyone that you have that thing. If the wrong person finds out…"

"That would mean…trouble?"

"_Big_ trouble."

Before Quorra could respond, a cool voice cut into their conversation. "What means trouble?"

Gem stood at the head of their table, an undecipherable expression on her face. Quorra froze. She hadn't even heard her approach. How much had she overheard? Nydia recovered first.

"Quorra not getting these seating charts memorized before opening night. But I think she can handle it, don't you, Gem? Oh, look, Quorra! Your disk finished syncing."

Distracted, Quorra looked down at her disk, realizing that Nydia was right. Lifting it gently in her hands, she easily accessed the EOL database, checking through a few files to make sure they worked correctly. Finished, she replaced her disk in its holster only to freeze when she noticed that Gem's nearly white stare still focused on her.

But the Siren said nothing, seeming to contemplate Nydia's explanation. If she accepted it, Quorra didn't know. All Gem did was motion for them to rise from their seats. "Head over to the bar. Shaddix is going to show you all some basic drink orders in case they'll need you when peak hours hit."

The three approached the bar, situating themselves in between Wisteria, who smiled at them, and Ren, who made it his personal mission to not look at any of them. He shifted a little away from Nydia, never removing his gaze from the bottles of electric blue energy in front of them.

Ren wasn't the only one projecting an agitated sort of vibe. Shaddix stood with his arms crossed, casting a glare over to Rubrix, who was grinning innocently. The male ISO seemed to realize the exact moment Quorra sent him a "what did you do now?" look, for his grin widened considerably. Pandora stood between the two, and it was she who broke the silence.

"Alright, newbies, listen up. We're gonna walk you through a few basic cocktails, but there's one thing I want you all to remember. There's a science to this, and you are all plenty capable of computing it. I guarantee that once you get these measurements down, you'll never make a drink wrong. Not to mention, making the standard three drinks in a minute-thirty or less will be no problem. Now everyone grab a glass and a bottle. We'll walk through this one together first and see how you do."

Quorra realized quickly that she didn't possess the innate talent of pouring the right measurements from the get-go like Rubrix apparently did. She tended to overpour energy, but she was decent on handling the fruit mixtures. At least she wasn't a lost cause like the entire bar quickly labeled Wisteria, who only smiled genially at everyone. Throughout the tutorial, Pandora kept using Rubrix as an example to them, and every time she did, Shaddix's scowl only deepened.

Not even fifteen minutes into it, however, the sound of the elevator doors opening and the acute rhythm of marching feet stole everyone's attention away from the mixology lesson. The shots in front of her forgotten, Quorra spun around to see four programs marching single-file towards them in two rows. A fifth program led them, his parchment-like skin instantly noticeable against his black light suit.

At first glance, they all appeared to be security programs with their heavy armor and the appearance of uniformity in their suits. The closer they came, however, the more incongruities about them were noticeable. The different style boots. The fact that some missed helmets while others had them. The lack of any kind of security mark or badge to distinguish their authority. But it seemed like authority wasn't something they went without. All five walked with a sense of purpose, of pride, and as they came to a halt in unison in front of the group, Quorra knew who they were. Volunteer units. Part peacekeepers, part vigilantes, they policed the streets as ordinary citizens, often in places where the security programs were spread too thin to reach. So why were they here?

Magnum stepped forward, hands clenched at his side. "Sorry, we're closed." While his tone was polite, his deep voice spoke with an underlying warning and his body was clearly tensed. He was ready for a fight.

The vigilante programs seemed to completely ignore him. Their leader held his ground, his hands resting behind his back as he scanned the group in front of him.

At last, he spoke, his voice a metallic vibration.

"Where is Zuse?"

A jolt tore through Quorra, and she felt like the spotlight of a recognizer was beaming down solely upon her. She thought of looking anywhere but at the leader who'd spoken but resigned herself to focusing her gaze solidly on his breastplate. Anything else would look too suspicious. Clear avoidance would be noticed in an instant with this group, who was often rumored to be more ruthless than real security programs.

So she clenched her fists and bit down lightly on her tongue to stay poised. Rubrix had been right. She needed to work on her self-discipline. Her feelings were too easily on display.

After a pause where no one knew how to respond to the leader's out-of-the-blue question, Shaddix surprised them all by laughing. "Zuse? How should we know? Give me a break."

"We know he is in this area."

"Sure, that's what they say," Shaddix replied, coming around the bar to stand beside Magnum, placing a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. Or to hold him back. "Still doesn't mean he's here."

"But his spokesperson is," said the leader, his tone never changing. "So, let's stop playing games. Which of you is the one called Castor?" His gaze swept through them again, landing on one in particular. "Is it you?"

"Me?" Rubrix laughed nervously, pointing at himself. "No way, man. Not at all."

The leader looked like he wanted to continue his interrogation, but another voice, this one lightly teasing, stopped him. For once, it didn't make Quorra gladder to hear it.

"I should certainly say not. He doesn't have enough style for one thing."

Castor had emerged from the back entrance, Gem at his side. None of them had noticed her absence, and Quorra felt a rush of gratitude to the Siren. She'd known trouble when she saw it and took immediate action while the rest of them just stood there and stared, like a couple of bugs mesmerized by a sudden bright light.

"You're Castor?" inquired the leader.

"The one and only." Castor smiled fondly at Gem. "And thank you, lovely, for letting me know about the mob at my front door."

A smirk curled Gem's features. However, she stayed where she was, watching, as Castor stepped farther into the room. Confidence lightened his every step, his cane tapping every other step on the floor for sport only. It was clear by his swagger that he didn't need it.

"Now what's this all about, boys? What's so important that Zusey needs to get involved?"

The leader's newly clenched jaw at the sight of Castor was the only thing that gave away that he was unsure of himself. Clearly, Castor was _not _what he had been expecting of someone claiming to represent the great and powerful Zuse.

In spite of herself, Quorra's lips curled into a smile. She could sympathize.

"It's not something," the leader said delicately, "we can discuss here."

Castor smiled indulgently, coming to a stop in front of them. Between him, the crowd at the bar, and the vigilante programs, an equilateral triangle was formed. Castor began to play with the cane in his hands, tilting it back and forth.

"I would ask for you all to step into my office, but there's barely enough room for my ego in there. Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of my employees. It's the least you could do after disturbing them so."

He was playing with them! Quorra stared, transfixed. Seeing Castor at work for the first time was…unexplainable. And surreal, since she was one of the few in the room who _knew_.

Well, maybe this wasn't exactly the first time for Quorra. She supposed that Castor had played with her yesterday, too, but somehow it had been different than it was now. With her, he'd only seemed teasing. In contrast, with these programs, she could detect a hint of maliciousness in his mannerisms. Along with him clearly enjoying the situation a little too much, he seemed a little touchy. And he'd spoken up for them, his employees. Was he angry that these strange programs had barged in and practically harassed them just to get to him?

"Bartik wouldn't want this spread around," the leader argued further.

"I don't much care about what Bartik wants until he has the spine to come speak with me himself. Instead of sending what I'm sure are very capable lackeys of his to browbeat my employees." His grin was less a smile and more a baring of teeth.

_Definitely angry._

"You're saying that sending a messenger to talk to a messenger isn't sufficient?"

"Zuse wouldn't think so. It lacks… _initiative_ on your part."

The leader ran a hand over his face, frustrated. "Very well, Castor. But I'm only telling you this because Zuse _needs_ to know, and I know that you'll pass it on." He paused, casting a warning look over at the bar. "And I trust that your _dear _employees will understand the meaning of being discreet."

"I hired them on more than their looks alone." Castor winked in their direction, and Quorra convinced herself that he _didn't_ look at her in particular but at the group as a whole. "So don't you worry about that."

Resigning himself, the leader proceeded. "There's been an attack."

The silence somehow became thicker in the room, almost deafening. Even so, Castor shrugged, tossing up his cane so it rested across his shoulder blades.

"There are always attacks."

"Not like this. It didn't involve just one or two programs this time. Tron's unit found over fifty programs infected with the Abraxas virus. They're all in quarantine right now, thanks to the fast actions of the Creator. But it gets worse."

"I can't imagine," Castor replied, but his voice was devoid of sarcasm this time. A grimness had taken hold of him as he listened to each word with growing dread. "What else happened if they're quarantined already?"

"It seems that, given the initial analysis of the scene and its casualties, the infected have been programed to go after a specific target."

The entire room waited with bated breath, utterly focused on the program's next words. The words _infected_, _quarantined_, and_ target _floated in Quorra's mind, unable to escape. Her head felt like it had the heaviness of a bowling ball, such a stark contrast from her balloon-like lightness earlier in the day.

"They're going after the ISOs."

The weight became too much. Quorra fell backwards at the words, lucky that one of the stools at the bar was there to catch her. Every eye in the room focused on her—whether due to her reaction or because they knew what she was, she didn't know and she didn't care. She didn't hear or feel anything for several moments as she just focused on her breathing, marveling at the fact that she was alive, _still_ alive.

Because according to another word that had entered her mind—_casualties_—she had a few brothers and sisters who may not have been so lucky.

"How many?" But the question didn't come from Castor, but from Rubrix, fear and urgency evident in his voice.

"Two," the leader answered slowly.

_Two._

This word _burned_, practically setting her mind on fire. Every other word smoldered under its flame.

_Two. Two ISOs dead. Not just derezzed but dead. Dead, dead, DEAD—_

A hand was on her shoulder in comfort while another gripped her own hand tightly. Rubrix clenched her shoulder in a vice, but it didn't hurt. All she could focus on was how badly he was shaking. Nydia gazed at her worriedly, her eyes too shiny, as she held onto her hand for dear life.

"And you are _sure_," Castor said, "that ISOs were the targets?"

"There were Basics on the scene, and none of them were harmed. Some even tried to defend the ISOs, but they were just tossed aside. The infected didn't go for them at all."

Castor turned away, a hand on his lips as he paced a little in thought.

"Did any escape or get derezzed?"

"Only the ones that struggled too much. We caught the rest. None escaped, except through deresolution."

Castor nodded, as if this information wasn't really new to him. He didn't ask anything else.

"You will inform Zuse about this, won't you?" the leader asked.

Castor turned back to face him, his expression stony. "Given his absence, believe me when I say with utmost certainty that he already knows."

Confused at first, the leader only nodded stiffly. "Understood." A few barks of commands later, he led his men out of the room and down the elevator.

The silence that followed in their absence was suffocating this time.

Instead of taking immediate action, like Quorra assumed he would do, Castor stood there, silent, contemplative. The program's words had set him in a rare serious mood, and no one in the room was willing to coax him out of it. All the same, Quorra felt a stab of anger. Why wasn't he doing anything? He cared about the ISOs, didn't he? So why was he just standing there, while two of her brethren were gone forever?

Quorra couldn't wrap her head around any of it. There had been an attack, and worse, an _infection_. How was this happening? Why didn't Flynn have this under control? He made this system, so why couldn't he locate one rogue virus? Two programs had died. Two _ISOs_ had died. No matter how many times she thought about it, none of it seemed real.

Castor's sudden footsteps sounded so loud through the deathly silent room as he moved away from them towards the elevator. She watched, unfeeling as he stopped just before leaving the main room behind.

Without looking back, he intoned, "This doesn't leave this room. If it does, consider yourselves let go."

Not waiting for an affirmative, he entered the elevator and was soon gone.

Quorra couldn't focus on work for the rest of the day.

* * *

**A/N: I've decided to only take cues every so often from the Tron history before Legacy, because I honestly don't have time to locate all the research I need for it. Plus, I want to actually tell my own story and be creative, and isn't that what fanfiction is all about? All the same, I have no intention of turning this into some strange AU of the Legacy timeline. Things will coincide with what happens and with what is alluded to in the film. I'm just filling in a lot of the blanks myself.**

**Once again, please review and let me know what you think about things! Positive, negative, I like it all!**


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